Prologue to Chapter 16
Lewis had found what he expected in Portland – a discarded cell phone. Smith and his entourage had traveled by van from there, and the trail had gone cold fairly quickly.
That was when it dawned on Lewis: General Hunt Stockwell would never let his money-maker get too far afield. Surely, if he found Stockwell, it would take him a step closer to finding the A-Team, and Sydney. And he knew Stockwell would be fairly easy to find. This late in his career, the old spy was predictable to a fault.
Lewis pulled out binoculars and trained them on the jet sitting on the runway at Sisters Airfield in Oregon. The jet had arrived during the small hours of the morning, so Stockwell was obviously not too far ahead of him in tracking down the A-Team. He needed a direction to go, and he had to get ahead of Stockwell.
He watched as the security detail outside the jet rotated. This occurred every hour on the hour. He had counted three distinctive guards so far. He suspected there was a fourth that he had not yet seen in the rotation. He had been observing for awhile, and it would be awhile longer before he felt comfortable that he had a complete personnel count. Based on what he had learned so far, his best hope to get onto that jet was going to be if the General left, hopefully taking half of his detail with him.
Maybe he could even prompt an excursion, via Cheney –the two men were old friends. He knew he had time to think about that while he continued his surveillance. Maybe he could even find a way to tap into the General's communication system. Yes, there was plenty to occupy his time while he waited for his opportunity to board the jet.
CHAPTER 16: Tripping Down Memory Lane
"I'm fine, Hannibal," Murdock said. He stood in front of the Colonel in the study/library/extra room that nobody could agree what to do with once they moved in. Hannibal had taken it over as an office, but knowing the Colonel, Murdock had figured it would see more use as a first floor bedroom, which was what he had argued for. But then again, he'd seen Hannibal take more than one person back here to talk to them in the last day. As usual, Hannibal had made the right decision.
Hannibal opened the humidor on the desk and pulled out a cigar, rolling it between his fingers and smelling it before putting it back. Murdock smirked. "Maggie on your case, again?"
The Colonel shrugged and leaned against the desk. "She picked a hell of a time to take up the cause." He looked up at Murdock. "How's Syd holding up? Sounded like maybe she remembered something last night."
Murdock ground his teeth. That was going to be the hardest part of the day, in his estimation: talking about what had happened to Syd. If he saw Lewis he'd be tempted to tear him apart. Though height-wise they were pretty well matched, Lew had always been stockier and more heavily-muscled than he was, but also much slower. Murdock doubted that 15 years had changed that. All things considered, it would be a pretty even match from a physical standpoint. He figured that gave him the edge, because he was pissed as hell.
"Are you going to answer the question, Captain?"
The Colonel's voice startled Murdock out of his murderous fantasies. He shrugged, trying to make it sound inconsequential. "She had a flash about . . . the rape. It wasn't anything connected, more like a nightmare than a memory."
Murdock shifted under the Colonel's gaze. His ice-blue eyes had always kind of disturbed Murdock. When he looked at him, it felt like he was looking inside him. It worked well as an intimidation tactic with the scumbags they usually dealt with, but it was equally as effective when ensuring that you were getting the whole truth from one of your men.
"Is there something else you want to share, Captain?" It felt more like an order than a request.
Murdock cleared his throat. "Well, it doesn't really have to do with Syd, but . . ." He paused, trying to decide how best to proceed.
"Spit it out."
"I don't know how much you know about what I did when I first arrived in Southeast Asia –"
*
Hannibal could tell Murdock was uncomfortable with the subject.
He opened the humidor again, and this time he pulled the cigar out, bit the end off and lit it. He had a feeling he was going to need it today – Maggie be damned. "If you're worried about the black ops, Murdock, Face was able to unearth enough to let us know that you'd be a good fit with the Team. Other than that, I figured it was none of my business."
Murdock rubbed the back of his neck and started pacing. "Yeah, well, I was recruited by the CIA right outta high school. Didn't have a whole lot going for me other than the fact that I could fly just about anything with wings or rotors, but apparently they weren't too picky at that time."
Hannibal sat down and kicked his feet up onto the desk, a smirk on his face as he considered the man before him. Murdock had one of the most agile intellects he had ever encountered. His flexibility in the field had always been astonishing, from helping Face on a con to helping BA take a rusted bag of bolts and make it air-worthy to taking charge when the rest of the Team was in trouble. It made him a significant asset – something the CIA certainly would be quick to recognize. "Oh, I think the Company has always been pretty picky about their recruits."
Murdock turned to face him, and Hannibal had to consciously stop himself from chuckling at the disbelief reflected there. The pilot was confident in the air, but when it came to his other skills, he was startlingly clueless; almost like it was second nature.
Murdock strode to the chair in front of the desk and took a seat. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, intensity evident in posture and gaze. "You see, Colonel, that wasn't the only time I worked for the CIA."
Hannibal couldn't decide whether to be surprised or not. "What do you mean?"
"You remember that time in '70 when you reported me AWOL?"
"Yeah. I remember." Hannibal's voice was flat. At the time, he had thought he made a huge mistake recruiting Murdock. He'd only been with them for a few months when he disappeared. Then he had been told the pilot was on a special assignment and to back off. He had been pissed. "You were working for the CIA then?"
Murdock's head bobbed side to side. "Kind of. It was an undercover op that was run under a joint taskforce including ATF, CIA, FBI, DEA . . . the usual alphabet soup of government agencies, probably included Army Intel, too, though I wasn't that privy to the overall organization. The trail started state-side, and they needed to know who in-country they could trust. They figured I was a safe bet, since I had left CIA, and wasn't yet entrenched in the Army. They approached me to volunteer and I agreed . . . to help out a friend."
"A friend?" Hannibal dropped his feet to the floor. He couldn't help the derisive note that crept into his tone. When Murdock first appeared, he seemed to be pretty short on friends. The Team had taken him in and he had up and disappeared. Though Murdock had returned to his pilot duties less than a month after his initial disappearance, the absence distanced him from the Team. Hannibal requested the use of his crew more often than not, but the fact that Murdock had taken off voluntarily without a word to Hannibal had placed a hell of wedge between the two men for awhile.
Murdock sat back. "Listen, Hannibal, I know you weren't happy with me at the time. You know how those kind of things went down during the war. I wasn't given a chance to talk to anyone about it. They pulled me out of my bed one night and spirited me to Laos, for Christ's sake. I was warned not to talk about the op, and I took a lot of flack for backing out. I managed to clear Ike's name, which is why I got involved in the first place. Once that was done, I headed straight back to the Team."
"I was never angry at you, Murdock. I was pissed as hell at the manipulative bastards that spirited you away. I finally found someone high enough on the food chain to bitch to. He said he would arrange for you to come home."
Murdock's eyes narrowed. "Who was that?"
"A Peter Quinn. I was never too sure who he worked for, but he seemed to be one of the coordinators of whatever undercover op they had roped you into."
"Quinn? I think he was FBI, but I'm not positive."
Hannibal shrugged. "Anyway, I don't see how it matters now. It's all water long under the bridge."
"Yeah, well I thought the same thing, until . . ." Murdock glanced down at his hands, clasped in front of him. Then he raised his eyes to meet Hannibal's. "Until the trial, when the drug and gun running connection between Morrison, Curtis and Kyeh came out."
"Why didn't you say something then?"
"What could I say? 'Gee, wonder if it was connected to the gun and drug smuggling ring I was asked to investigate during the war.' All I knew about that op was that Ike Cheney was cleared. That was all that mattered to me. The whole thing was so compartmentalized; I doubt I could have learned much more in my position, anyway. During the trial, I tried getting in touch with Ike, but couldn't reach him. He's the only link I even have to the whole mess. I ran into freaking brick walls everywhere I turned. Except for Stockwell."
Hannibal had burned through his cigar in record time, and was left chewing on the stub as he considered what Murdock had just revealed. "Sounds like too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, doesn't it?"
"There's something else . . ." Murdock shifted.
Hannibal's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"Before I joined the Team. Right after I started flying for the Army. I . . . I ran drugs. Briefly."
"Face told me. But you were clean when I met you." It was a statement – Hannibal could abide by a lot of things, but drugs weren't one of them. He could smell a drug addict a mile away.
"Yes, I was clean when we met."
"You think it was connected?"
Murdock shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe? Likely even? I was at the bottom of the totem pole at the time, and I thought it was strictly a US operation, but looking back I'm not so sure. I dropped out after my peter pilot was killed during a dust off. I didn't want anything to do with drugs after that. That was the reason I transferred. I sometimes wondered if that wasn't why the task force contacted me to begin with, though they seemed to be ignorant of my previous involvement. Who knows? Like I said, the op was very fragmented, with wholly separate groups working different angles. I'm not even sure who was holding the reigns."
"If anyone was." Hannibal gazed at his pilot. Some of what Murdock had said he already knew, but much of it was news to Hannibal. The fact that Murdock had kept so much from him for so long didn't really surprise him. Part of the reason Hannibal had taken such an interest in Murdock, in the first place, was because of his background in black ops. That kind of training always came with its own baggage. Spy-types usually didn't like talking about their work, and Murdock's first training had been with the CIA. He was well-practiced at holding his tongue about what mattered, no matter how verbose he might become at times. Actually, Hannibal had learned over the years that the more Murdock talked the less information he usually provided. It was a strategy that worked for him.
Murdock leaned forward, his expression begging forgiveness. "Are we Ok, Hannibal?"
Hannibal quirked a smile at the pilot. "You and I have always been fine, Murdock. You haven't told me anything that really surprises me. I just wish I could figure out how it all fits together."
Murdock leaned back with a relieved sigh. But his expression was anything but relaxed. "I think it might help if I get in touch with Ike Cheney. He was there. He knew what was going on, probably far more than I did. He may be able to put at least some of it into context for us."
"Does he still work for the CIA?"
Murdock grimaced. "Last I knew, he still did. But Ike is basically a good person, Colonel. I trust him."
Hannibal nodded, but kept his own thoughts on the subject to himself. Murdock was basically a good person, too. And Hannibal trusted him with his life – had on many occasions. But that didn't mean he always told him everything. He doubted Cheney was any different.
He stood. "Let's see what we're able to reconstruct today. Tonight, we'll decide what our next move should be. I'm tired of playing the mouse in this game."
* * *
Allen Richter waited for the group to gather on the deck. He had left the chairs set up in a loose circle around the fire pit. It was a sunny day, with just a few wispy cirrus clouds to break up the deep blue of the sky. The lake shimmered in the distance like liquid silver. The breeze was pleasant, and whispered through the forested area below the lake. The soothing scent of pine and earth wafted on the breeze, and added the final touch to the serenity of the setting. He hoped the relaxed, outdoor venue would help put them all at ease. That was important if they were to get anywhere with this exercise.
Sydney Wilson was the first to show up, about 20 minutes before the designated time. He was surprised that Murdock wasn't hovering at her side. The connection between the two was almost eerie, and he wondered idly whether it wasn't another manifestation of Murdock's addictive tendencies. He smiled to himself at the thought. The truth was he really wasn't sure where Murdock's real problems and his affected problems diverged. The man was a walking encyclopedia of psychiatric disorders, and Richter suspected that most of them were strictly for show.
Sydney walked to the railing, her fingers beating an erratic pattern on the wood. He followed her gaze out to the path to the lake. There, he could see Amy and Haley, each carrying a back pack. He felt a wave of relief that the girl would not be present for the session.
"How are you feeling today, Ms. Wilson?"
"It's Sydney, Doctor. And to be honest, I'm a little apprehensive."
"Allen, please. And it's natural for you to be apprehensive." He paused, then added, "I am glad to see you convinced your daughter not to attend."
"It would have been difficult to get the Team to be totally open about what was going on if she were here. I think Haley understands that, even if it doesn't make her happy."
"She seems like a very bright young woman."
An amused smile curved Sydney's full lips. "Between you and me, that's because she is her father's daughter."
"No doubt in your mind that she is Captain Murdock's offspring, eh?"
"No doubt whatsoever." Sydney walked to a chair and sat down. Her fingers resumed their irregular tapping on the arms of the chair. "Are you assigning seats?"
"I considered it. What do you think?"
"You're the professional."
"But you know these men better than I do."
"I knew them. A long time ago. Though it doesn't seem they've changed much." Sydney was gazing thoughtfully at the charred remains of the wood in the fire pit.
"People generally don't change their basic character."
"I don't suppose they do." She looked up at Richter. "I guess I'd be inclined to allow everyone to sit, or not sit, where they're comfortable."
Richter walked over and took the seat next to Sydney, sitting on the edge so he could turn toward her. "I'm going to need your cooperation more than just about anyone else here, today, Sydney."
"I know you aren't thrilled with this exercise, Allen. I really do appreciate your help, especially under the circumstances. Whatever you need from me, I'll try to oblige if I can."
"I will be watching you closely, but I need some sign if you begin to feel one of your anxiety attacks coming on. We'll suspend the session so –"
"No."
Richter blinked at her in surprise. "But it could mean an embedded reaction –"
"I'm well aware of that, Allen. It also means that I'm remembering something. Something that Asher, or Lewis, or who knows who else didn't want me to remember. That means that the exercise is doing just what it's supposed to."
"I don't think you fully appreciate the ramifications you may be facing if we move forward after an anxiety attack initiates."
"The most important ramification is that I will remember." Sydney's mouth was set in a stubborn line.
"Maybe you'll remember. There are no guarantees."
"And maybe there will be more severe ramifications than an anxiety attack. It's a gamble I'm willing to take, Allen."
"Let it go, Doctor. Arguing with her isn't going to change her mind." Murdock dropped into the chair on the other side of Sydney, who visibly relaxed with the pilot's proximity, her hands coming to rest in her lap.
Richter turned away from the couple to find Hannibal, who walked to the other side of the fire pit and sat down, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar.
He stood up and appealed to Hannibal, hoping he would have more influence. "Colonel Smith, what do you think our course of action should be if Sydney begins to have an anxiety attack?"
Hannibal's gaze focused behind him, and Sydney's voice was tight as she responded, "It really doesn't matter what Colonel Smith thinks, Allen. He isn't my commanding officer."
Smith's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Nope, I never was. I've tried to bend S.A. Wilson to my will before without much luck. She generally does whatever the hell she wants."
Face had arrived while the exchange was taking place. He sat in the chair Richter had just vacated. "Which invariably is exactly what you don't want her to do."
"Excuse me?" Sydney turned to the conman, while Richter drifted outside the circle of chairs, to better observe the group, hoping that by removing himself from the center, he could get them to relax. The men all appeared to be wary of what they said around him. That wouldn't do at all.
Face crossed his arms. "I didn't stutter. You are the most contrary woman I've ever met."
"And you've met ever so many," Sydney said.
Murdock snorted. "How did you know?"
"Given his track record in 'Nam, I figured he was close to batting a thousand."
"I enjoy female companionship." Face flashed Sydney a cool smile. "Well, most females, present company excluded."
"The feeling is mutual, Face. I'm not your type, anyway."
"No doubt, there. I'm not into women who make it a point to be a pain in the ass."
"You know, I'm not the only pain in the ass sitting here. You have your moments."
Murdock leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "You know, it's been 15 years since I had to referee one of your verbal sparring matches, which as I recall, you both enjoyed a little too much for my taste." He lifted his head and looked at them pointedly. "Personally, I think you're each a pain in the ass in your own right."
Sydney and Face looked at each other, then at the pilot and said in unison. "Look who's talking."
"If you ask me, all of you have your moments, and together you're a major pain in my ass." Hannibal glared at the trio through a haze of cigar smoke. "In 20/20 hindsight, I should have ordered you two to stay the hell away from the little spook from the beginning. We could have avoided a whole lot of trouble. That is assuming, of course, that you followed orders, which wasn't exactly your strong suit."
BA had arrived in the midst of Hannibal's speech, and snorted as he took a seat between Murdock and Hannibal. "Yeah, Hannibal, like it was yours."
Hannibal shrugged, and gave BA a good-natured grin. "Or yours."
BA laughed. "Heck, it wasn't any of our strong suits. I always figured that was how you picked your recruits."
Hannibal's grin disappeared in a blink as he turned to Richter. "Well, Doctor, looks like we're all here. The others are sitting this one out, though I've asked Maggie to stick close, just in case." Richter wondered if that was a veiled warning. He hoped he wouldn't give Dr. Sullivan any need to intervene. "She's manning the kitchen and will check up on us periodically. The floor's yours."
Richter stayed where he was, leaning against the railing beside the group. "I just have a couple ground rules to go over, then I'm turning the floor back over to you." He pulled a ball out of his pocket and tossed it in the air. "First - only the person with the ball talks. When you have the ball, you have the floor. No one should interrupt. If you have something to say while someone else has the ball, stand up, and when that person is ready, they can pass you the ball."
Hannibal raised his hand and Richter held up a hand. "Just a moment, Colonel. It also dawned on me that this format was somewhat different from most group sessions I have run before. If you have a clarifying question for the person speaking, raise your hand and they can acknowledge you when they get to a good place to stop." Richter pointed at Hannibal. "Your question, Colonel?"
"You answered it."
"Second – and this is important if this is going to work. You are sworn to tell the truth. The entire point of this exercise is to get to the truth, but if you don't tell the truth that will be difficult. Everyone clear?"
Hannibal stood up and Richter tossed him the ball. "I just have one thing to add. Murdock came to talk to me before this, and I know some of what he told me came as a surprise to me. I think there are going to be a few of those today. We need to agree not to be judgmental. Today is about gathering information, not about laying blame." His eyes bored into Murdock's. "That includes blaming yourself. Understood?"
Hannibal tossed the ball back to Richter, who was gratified to see all of them nodding in the right direction. That little speech had been best coming from Hannibal, though he did wonder what Murdock and Hannibal had discussed. He decided that was a good place to start.
"Captain Murdock, why don't you start by sharing what you and the Colonel discussed, so we're all on the same page." Richter tossed the ball to Murdock.
During Murdock's monologue, Richter kept a close eye on Sydney. When Murdock mentioned the name of the man he was tasked with investigating, a strange look crossed her face. He stood up and Murdock glanced up at him curiously. He wrapped up his story, and tossed the ball to Richter.
"Sydney, you reacted when Murdock mentioned this friend that he cleared." Richter looked at Murdock, who supplied, "Ike Cheney."
"Do you know him?"
Sydney stood up, and absently caught the ball Richter tossed to her. She looked down at Murdock. "How did you know Cheney?"
Murdock shrugged. "He trained me when I arrived in Southeast Asia – I guess you could say he was my mentor in the CIA."
Sydney paced, muttering 'Cheney' over and over. "I should know that name." Frustration laced her voice.
Face stood up, and Sydney handed him the ball as she paced past him. He put a hand on her arm and stopped her, giving her a sympathetic smile. "I don't know if this will help, but maybe you ran into Cheney when you arrived in-country. He was in charge at the CIA HQ. Honestly, I thought he was just a desk jockey." Sydney dropped into her seat, and he looked over at Hannibal. "Remember, the records I did manage to find regarding Murdock's pre-Army days, I found in Cheney's office."
He tossed the ball to Hannibal, who raised an eyebrow. "You mean the records you so conveniently found lying on his desk? The ones that were incomplete, but complete enough to confirm he was a good fit with the Team? That was a little too fortuitous, if you ask me." He took a step forward, and lobbed the ball back to Face.
Face stepped forward and caught the ball. He nodded. "Those would be the ones. You remember how weird I thought the whole thing was. I think I even told you, it was like Cheney wanted me to find those files. But he was careful not to put out anything sensitive. Just enough to hint at Murdock's black ops training."
BA stood and Face threw him the ball. He turned to Hannibal. "Weren't a secret you was interested in recruiting Howlin' Mad Murdock for our Team at the time. Everybody thought you was nuts – it was all over the motor pool, and you know those guys made the rounds to all the bases. Mebe Cheney found out and wanted to grease the wheels."
BA dropped the ball in Face's outstretched hand. "BA's right. You'd been all over asking about him after that first flight he handled for us. We'd checked all the available Army records, which were pretty sparse. CIA had the interesting stuff, but I'd bet they made sure we didn't see anything too interesting."
Face flipped the ball to Hannibal. "I was a little hesitant about recruiting him based on the little we could find out through the available Army records. That was when Ray heard he'd been with the Company, and you started checking along those lines."
Face took the ball from Hannibal's outstretched hand. "Where did Ray hear that?"
BA took the ball. "Didn't Ray have a contact in Army Intel that told him?"
Murdock reached into the close circle the three men had formed and snatched the ball. "Stockwell was in Army Intel. And he was CIA before that. He probably knew Cheney. And they probably both knew Sydney, just like they both, apparently knew me . . . and my father." Murdock winged the ball over the deck railing toward the lake. "And the damn ball had to go."
Richter chuckled, and four sets of startled eyes turned on him, suddenly wary. He sighed. "I have to agree with you, Captain. Now, if you gentlemen would take a seat, I think Sydney may have something to add."
The men all moved back to their seats. Murdock draped an arm over the back of Sydney's chair. "You Ok, Sugar?"
"If Cheney was at CIA HQ I must have met him when I arrived in 'Nam, like Face said. Doesn't it seem strange that I can't remember him?"
Murdock shrugged. "Yeah, it does seem a little odd."
"Unless he was involved somehow. Maybe Asher blocked memories of Cheney just like he blocked memories of what happened."
Murdock's gaze was skeptical. "But that seems strange, too. It's not like you don't remember . . . Lewis for example. You just don't remember that day."
"But initially I didn't remember anything. Now most of the memories have returned, but for some reason, I can't remember what happened the day of the Hanoi job, and my mind is a total blank where Cheney is concerned, though I must have encountered him when I arrived in country. The omission leads me to believe that it's significant."
Hannibal pulled a cigar out of the stash in his shirt pocket. "The logic is there. But should we take that to mean Cheney's in league with Lewis? And if he is, does that mean Stockwell's involved, too? Or could it mean that Lewis and croney's didn't want you remembering Cheney because he's someone who could help you?"
The group fell silent, each person lost in private thoughts. Maggie strode out on deck. "Well, I know you haven't been out here long, but this looks like a good time to see if anyone would care for a drink or maybe a snack."
* * * *
CHAPTER 17: History or Hypothesis
After a brief break, they gathered on the deck again. Richter cleared his throat. "I'm going to make a suggestion, and this is just a suggestion. It might be helpful if you picked a place in time – say the day before the Hanoi job – and each walked through the events systematically. Something one person remembers may trigger a memory for someone else."
"It's worth a try," Hannibal said. "Where should we start? Day before the Hanoi job?"
"The time frame was just a suggestion. It depends on what specific information you are trying to recover," Richter said.
Face leaned forward. "We've been through Murdock's early time with the CIA, at least in broad terms. What about Sydney's? Maybe if she walks through what led to her assignment to investigate Murdock, she'll remember her connection to Cheney."
"What do you think, Sydney?" Hannibal looked at her. "You said Murdock was your first assignment when you arrived in 'Nam. Murdock said the task force started state-side. Assuming there's a connection there, maybe you could start with your training state-side, and what led to your assignment to Vietnam, and go forward from there."
Sydney nodded and systematically walked them from the time of her training at Quantico, to initial assignment to special services in Vietnam. She continued with her arrival in Vietnam in April 1970.
Sydney ran her hands back through her hair. "I spent my first day trying to make HQ understand that I was an agent, and not someone new for the secretarial pool. Through some paperwork screw-up, they were expecting a Sid, S-I-D, Wilson of the male persuasion. It was freaking hot, and they shoved me into a bunk house with half a dozen secretaries. I didn't get the mess sorted out until the next day when I went to see . . ." Sydney shook her head, her brow furrowed. "Damn, it's there, like when you have a name you can almost remember but the harder you try to remember it, the more you know you won't."
"Where did you go to talk to this person?" Richter asked.
"I think it was the main office. He was like a CO, though that wasn't his title . . ."
"Coordinator of Special Project," Murdock offered. "That was Cheney's title when I investigated him."
Sydney closed her eyes. "What did Cheney look like?"
"Five-eight, stocky, muscular, steel-gray eyes set in a square face. Probably his most notable feature was his hair. It was sandy colored, and stuck up all over the place, especially when it got long. They called him –"
"Einstein."
Murdock grinned at her. "Yeah, they called him Einstein. One time he even grew the mustache. It was kind of eerie how much he resembled that famous photo of Albert."
Syd opened her eyes, a slight smile on her face. "He's connected to Stockwell. He wasn't my main contact, though. That was . . ." She snapped her fingers. "Peter Quinn. He offered my services for a side assignment that they thought I'd be perfect for."
Face snorted. "A pretty girl who could sing. Anybody that knew anything about Murdock would know you'd catch his eye."
Syd nodded. "It was a short assignment, though. It didn't take a genius to figure out Murdock wasn't involved in drugs. He drank like a fish, but he never touched drugs."
Murdock grimaced. "You even tried to hook me up with some pusher."
Syd laughed. "Oh, I remember that night well. A two-hour lecture about the hazards of drug use. I talked to Quinn the next day and told him the investigation was a dead end. No way were you involved in a drug smuggling ring. That was when I was offered a follow-up assignment at the same base."
"That was when the show moved on and you left," Murdock said. "I remember Face came and told me shortly after that that he found out you weren't a USO show girl. By then I figured it didn't matter, since you were already gone. Then you showed up again, less than a week later."
"I was called in for a mission briefing . . ." Sydney's blue eyes were focused a decade and a half in the past. "Quinn was there; so were Cheney and Stockwell and a bunch of other suits. They must have been part of the same task force you were involved in, HM."
"Possibly."
Sydney's brows knitted in concentration. "I was assigned to investigate the alpha teams at your base for involvement in drug and gun smuggling. I was going . . . undercover as Lew's partner? But he wasn't involved in the investigation. He wasn't under suspicion but he was to be kept in the dark about my assignment. Cheney was concerned that he'd been working with Morrison too long to remain impartial in an investigation."
"But if you were investigating the alpha teams, that would have included us," Face said.
Sydney's eyes narrowed. "Cheney pulled me aside and told me your Team was probably clear. In fact, he thought it unlikely that either of Morrison's Teams were involved. As it turned out, I think he was right. But, I had begun to suspect that Morrison and Curtis, themselves, were running something bigger than was originally alleged." Sydney stood, hands on hips, fingers tapping in an irregular pattern on her hips as she began to pace. "It's fuzzy, I can't remember any details. Why not?"
Richter watched Sydney with concern. "Maybe it's one of the things Asher blocked. You're agitated. Are you feeling anxious?"
"I'm fine," Sydney snapped, without breaking stride.
Murdock put a stilling hand on her arm as she came near him, and pulled her into the chair. "When we talked the night before the Hanoi job, all you had were a bunch of disjointed clues and your own speculation about what they meant."
She took a deep breath and blew it out. "You're probably right. I don't remember details, because I didn't have any, yet, just conjecture. That was my problem. It was why I was still there."
"It does sound like they had narrowed it to our base," Face said.
Sydney shook her head. "I think there were other agents, like me, investigating undercover at other bases. I wasn't alone in the assignment. Unfortunately, before we could get the goods on anyone, the end of the war must have intruded."
Hannibal nodded. "And Morrison was killed – by Lewis. Curtis managed to slink into the shadows, assumed dead in the shelling, and the entire investigation ended with the end of the war. The Hanoi job was dumped in our laps, and the actual smuggling ring . . ."
"Remained intact." Sydney's eyes flashed. "Lewis and Curtis remained in place to handle the US side of the operation, sharing a larger slice of the pie, since Morrison had been eliminated, and Kyeh still had his connections in Southeast Asia."
Face sat forward. "During the trial we learned Kyeh had been given a new identity when he rolled over on several of the US personnel on his payroll, but he conveniently forgot to mention Curtis and Lewis, thus keeping his lucrative pipeline open."
Hannibal ground his teeth. "And when we went on trial last year, Curtis and Kyeh were sacrificed. But I'm betting Lewis has kept the pipeline open. He's well-positioned for it given his job at the CIA."
"Could Lewis handle both sides of the supply chain?" Sydney looked doubtful.
"It does seem pretty unlikely that he's working alone," Face said.
Murdock looked at Hannibal. "Can we call Cheney now?"
"But we don't have any proof that Lewis was involved, then; or is still involved, now. It's all just speculation," Sydney said. "And we don't know who he might be working with. Cheney, Stockwell, Quinn, they were all there. Any one of them could be involved."
"Or none of them." Murdock's mouth was set in a stubborn line. "I trust Cheney."
"Until we know more, I don't trust anyone but the people sitting right here," Hannibal said.
Murdock sat forward. "But I saw Lewis kill Morrison. That's got to mean something."
Hannibal shook his head. "You left Sydney there with Lewis, Murdock. You must have thought he was on the right side of the equation at the time. Not only that, but I would bet, confronted with an accusation, Lewis would just turn it back on you. It's your word against his, and no offense, Captain, but the word of a former psychiatric patient isn't going to carry much weight. Sydney's right. We don't have any proof that Lewis was involved in a smuggling ring. For all we know, he killed Morrison because of what he did to Sydney."
Murdock slumped back. "I suppose that's true."
Syd crossed her arms, determination flashing in her wide, blue eyes. "I have to remember what happened after I went to see Lewis that day. That's the key to proving his involvement."
"And that's a damn good reason to want you dead." Murdock's arm dropped around Sydney's shoulders.
"But it begs the question: Why didn't he kill me sometime during the last 15 years? That's a hell of a liability to leave flapping in the breeze."
Murdock's jaw tightened, but it was Face who spoke. "Because Lewis was obsessed with you, Syd, and probably still is. As long as Asher could keep you in the dark, you were safe. Once that changed, Lewis' objectives shifted. Asher became a liability, so he killed him. And now, you're just another liability."
Hannibal nodded. "But first he has to find her."
Sydney stood and started her pacing again, hands on hips, fingers drumming faster then before. "I'm less worried about that than figuring out how the hell to link this to Lewis, once and for all."
"You would be," Face said.
Sydney wrinkled her nose at the Lieutenant.
Richter stepped forward. "I think this might be a good time to take a break, and maybe take this back up after lunch."
"I think we should continue," Sydney said.
"You would."
"You are such a scintillating conversationalist, Face."
Hannibal watched Sydney for a few moments before nodding. "I'm on Dr. Richter's side with this one. If we're going to start getting into the details of what happened leading up to the Hanoi job, we all need to take a break and prepare. This is not going to be a pleasant trip down memory lane."
"But –"
"No 'but's S.A. Wilson." Hannibal's voice was uncompromising. "It's only about an hour until lunch, anyway. It's a beautiful day for a swim. Why don't you all head down to the lake, and Maggie and I will bring down a picnic lunch."
Murdock stood and stopped Sydney by hooking an arm around her waist. "C'mon, sugar. A swim sounds good. Though the lake is kinda cold."
Sydney's shoulders relaxed as she looked at the pilot, a reluctant smile curving her lips. "But I didn't bring a bathing suit."
Murdock grinned. "We could go skinny dipping."
Face grimaced. "Nobody wants to see your skinny ass, Murdock."
Richter was glad to see that Murdock's teasing had worked the necessary medicine on Sydney's agitation. Her grin matched Murdock's as she turned to Face and said, "Speak for yourself."
"Shorts work just as well." Hannibal seemed to be trying for a disapproving tone, but it came across as amused. "Remember, we do have an impressionable teenager amongst us."
* * *
Face was already in the water when he heard Sydney and Murdock coming down path. They were arguing about Sydney's choice of clothing for swimming, and he had to stifle a laugh.
"Just drop it, Murdock." Sydney had to be irritated with him to call him Murdock. "I'm not taking off the t-shirt."
"I'm just sayin' that the shorts and sports bra already cover up way more than most bikinis –"
"And I don't usually wear bikinis, either." Sydney draped her towel over one of the dock pilings and kicked off her shoes.
"I'm wasting my breath here, aren't I?" Murdock frowned at her. "Guess that means skinny dipping is totally out of the question. I can't believe you'd lead me on like that."
Face snorted. "She led you on for months, Murdock. At least now you're getting some. Don't knock it."
Sydney ran to the end of the deck and did a cannon ball, landing right next to Face who took the full brunt of the splash in his face. She surfaced a moment later, and looked far too satisfied with herself at his spluttering.
He glared at her. "That was uncalled for!"
Sydney grinned at him. She rolled to her back and gave a sharp kick, splashing Face again, as she began a strong back stroke out into the lake. Face shook the water out of his face, and took off after her with thoughts of revenge.
He was a strong swimmer, but Sydney was no slouch, especially once she flipped over and started a breast stroke. He had to push it to close the gap between them, but he finally caught her foot, and pulled her back towards him. She ducked under the water and almost slipped his grasp. But he followed her down, and got close enough to grasp her around the waist. They both came up gasping for air as they treaded water awkwardly.
"Face, let me go." She growled at him.
He grinned at her. "Gladly." He let her go, but kept a grip on the lower part of her shirt. "Just give me the t-shirt."
"Face . . ." Sydney glared at him.
"I'm not above taking it." He raised an eyebrow.
Syd considered her position for a few seconds. "Fine."
She raised her hands above her head as she went under, leaving Face holding the t-shirt. But she didn't resurface.
Face looked around nervously. He knew Sydney well enough to know she was plotting her own revenge; and she was a much stronger swimmer then he had first thought.
"Syd?" He couldn't see where she was. He turned and swam back toward the dock. Sydney surfaced on the other side of the lake, just as he tossed the t-shirt up to Murdock, who still stood on the dock.
Murdock held up the shirt, and grinned. "How'd you do that?"
"You know, I just have a way with women."
Murdock draped the t-shirt over another piling. "I have to admit. It disturbs me that you could get her out of her t-shirt when I couldn't."
Face laughed. "Look at it this way, Murdock. I got her out of her t-shirt, but you've had her out of everything."
"Wouldn't mind that, either," Murdock said thoughtfully.
"I could go try, if you want . . ."
Murdock looked at his friend. "You sound just a little too willing, Face." He dived into the water and Face took a deep breath in anticipation, just in time to be pulled under the water.
* * *
Sydney lay on the dock, soaking up the warmth of the sun. It was slowly thawing the chill that had seeped into her body from being in the lake, even with the exercise of fending off attacks from both Face and Murdock, who continued to goof off out in the water. She took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, and sighed. Hannibal had been right.
She sat up when she heard Murdock yell something about his swimming trunks being off limits. Even cinched as tight as they would go, they tended to ride down on his narrow hips. She cupped a hand around her mouth. "I didn't hear you complain when I pulled them down."
A cascade of water arched up over the side of the dock and doused her. She stood up, dripping, and glared down at the two men treading water just below her.
Murdock grinned at her. "Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you were up there." Face held up his hands in a show of innocence.
"Ah, you guys went swimming?" The voice of a disappointed 14-year-old reached them as Haley and Amy appeared, coming around the near side of the lake.
They made their way to the dock. Both looked sweaty and tired. Amy dropped her pack by the bench, and walked out on the dock. "Haley and I decided to beat it back here to eat lunch. Flies don't make good dining companions."
Face pulled himself up so his forearms rested on the dock. "You should both get your suits on and come join us. The water's great."
Sydney put a foot on Face's head and pushed him back into the water. "He lies. The water is flipping cold. But the swim is refreshing. If you can avoid the Marx Brothers." Another wave of water hit Sydney from below, catching Amy and Haley too.
"Actually, that felt pretty good." Amy said. "I don't know about Haley, but I worked up a sweat. And all I can smell is Deep Woods Off."
"I don't have a swimsuit." Haley eyed her mother's outfit. "Suppose I could find something . . ."
"I have a couple swimsuits, Haley. They're both two pieces. They'd probably fit well enough."
Haley grinned. "What are we waiting for?"
Sydney watched until Amy and Haley disappeared up the path to the house. Then turned and sat at the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the side. Murdock and Face were now racing to the far side of the lake, she suspected to keep from turning into big human ice cubes. She laid back on her towel and closed her eyes, allowing herself to doze off.
She woke when Murdock pulled himself up onto the dock and slid next to her. "Ames and Haley gonna come swimming?"
"Yep."
He bent his head and kissed her shoulder. "Mmm, you're warm." He moved closer, slipped a cold hand around her waist and leaned in for a kiss. His cool touch sent a shiver up Sydney's spine as she met his lips and wrapped her warm arms around his chilly neck.
"Get a room." Face blocked the sun and dripped on them.
Sydney squinted up at him. "You're just jealous."
Face flashed a rueful smile. "I always was . . . a little." He walked to the end of the dock and leaned on a piling.
Haley appeared at the bottom of the path, breathless from running. She tripped out of her flip flops on the run, and cannon-balled off the end of the dock with a happy screech, splashing Face in the process. "Jesus, she's as bad as you, Murdock!"
"Was she wearin' a bikini?" Murdock sat stiffly next to Sydney.
"She borrowed one of Amy's suits," Sydney said.
Amy appeared at a more leisurely pace a couple minutes later. She dropped her towel on the bench and walked onto the dock. Murdock looked up at her. "Ames, you do realize that Haley is only 14."
"Yes, Murdock, I know that."
"Well then why is she wearin' a bikini?"
Sydney pursed her lips. "You wanted me to wear a bikini."
"That is entirely different," Murdock muttered.
She exchanged a glance with Amy, who chuckled. "She's a pretty girl, Murdock."
Face was grinning. "Better make sure you keep the guns loaded, buddy."
Murdock stood up. "You're my backup, Faceman – you keep 'em loaded and I empty 'em . . . into any horny boy tries to get near my girl."
Face's look was thoughtful. He grabbed the t-shirt he had scammed off Syd earlier and held it up. "Can't be too careful. Gonna help me cover her up?"
"Last one in is a flightless dodo bird." As he was talking, Murdock ran to the end of the dock, and leapt into the water, catching Face's arm during launch and pulling him in after.
Amy laughed and looked at Sydney. "He's gonna have a tough time raising a teenaged daughter."
"Hell, I'm just glad I don't have to go it alone anymore."
Amy watched the three out in the lake for a few moments, then sat down next to Sydney. "You make Murdock very happy."
"It's mutual." Sydney glanced sideways at Amy. "What about you and Face?"
Amy stiffened. "We're just friends."
"Oh." Sydney weighed the hazards of pushing the subject. She didn't know Amy that well, but she knew Face. He was usually predictable where women were concerned, and she thought his reticent behavior toward Amy was very telling. She wondered if the same weren't true of Amy. Sydney decided to press ahead. "That's what I told myself about Murdock, too."
Amy turned a surprised expression toward her. "What?"
"Yeah, I knew Murdock a year before I admitted to myself that I had deeper feelings for him. It took almost losing him to realize that I loved him."
It took a few moments before Amy could gather her thoughts enough to respond, which Sydney took as a sign that she had hit the nail on the head. "Well, it's not like that with Face and me. We're just friends.
"Sorry. It's just that you really seem to have gotten to him. Of course I haven't been around him for awhile. Maybe he's changed. But I've never seen Face actually pine after a woman before." Sydney shook her head. She seriously doubted Face had changed substantially. Like Richter said, most people didn't.
"Really? You think . . ." Amy stopped, flustered. "Face is not pining after me!"
"Yeah, he is."
"You know, I think you're being a little presumptuous. I mean you barely know me. And you haven't been around Face in quite awhile. Don't you think there's a chance you could be misreading the situation?"
Sydney shrugged and stood. "I'm joining them for one last dip before Hannibal and Maggie come down with lunch. Want to come?"
Amy's mouth hung open, and Sydney smiled at her mildly. She vowed to have a talk with Face. For a war hero, the man was a total coward.
She ran and jumped off the end of the dock with a yowl.
* * * *
Prologue to Chapter 18
Ike walked through the security check station and headed to the car rental office. He carried his duffle, having packed optimistically for a two-day stay, at most, on the west coast. After talking to Stockwell, he had come to the reluctant conclusion that he would have to make the trip out here.
Though he hadn't shared the information with Stockwell, yet, he had run the infrared scan the General requested. Of course, Stockwell had been right. Ike knew where Smith and his men were, now. He was going to join Stockwell at Sisters and hoped that when Lewis saw him there, as he was sure he would, it would push him into making a move. He desperately wanted Lewis to make a move. He wanted this fiasco over, so he could get on with his life.
He was ready for a nice, cushy retirement.
CHAPTER 18: Back to the Past
All too soon the break was over. After lunch, the Team and Sydney left Maggie, Amy, Haley and Frankie down at the lake while they headed back up to the house to change and reconvene on the deck. Once again, Richter watched as Sydney was the first to arrive.
"How was the water?" He asked.
"Cold. Refreshing." Sydney dropped into the same chair she had selected in the morning. "You should have joined us, Allen."
Richter smiled thinly. "I doubt that everyone would be as welcoming as you are."
"Give them time, Allen. They'll come around."
"Who's the therapist, here?" Richter smiled at her.
Sydney's expression turn inward as the silence between them grew. Her fingers beat an erratic, staccato pattern on her knees, and he watched in fascination. Drumming fingers was a common nervous habit, but this was different – almost as if her fingers were moving over typewriter keys.
Richter decided to see if the odd nervous habit continued when he distracted her from her thoughts. "So, how did you make it down here ahead of Murdock?"
Sydney's fingers slowed, but continued their odd drumming, still no discernable pattern. "He and Haley started a mud fight, and the mud wouldn't wash off in the lake. He had to resort to a shower and scrubbing."
As if on cue, the pilot breezed out onto the patio and dropped into the chair next to Sydney. Her hands stilled at once, and she smiled at him. "All clean?"
"Got the worst of it off," Murdock said.
Sydney turned and looked at his profile, then started laughing. "You missed your ears."
Murdock stuck a finger in his ear, and grimaced at the mud evident there. He turned accusing eyes on Sydney. "I told you ya shoulda joined me. You coulda made sure I got all my dirty spots."
Face strolled out on deck as Sydney shook her head. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what you were thinking."
"You just would have been late getting back out here, Murdock." Face said as he sat down on Sydney's other side. "Sydney did you a favor."
"Like she did you a favor, giving you her t-shirt?" Murdock raised his eyebrows at his friend.
"That was more like coercion," Sydney corrected. "I did notice he made himself scarce after Amy showed up on the dock."
Face sat up. "What?"
Sydney smirked at him. "Don't be thick, Face. I've never seen you so hung up on a woman. Granted, I haven't seen you in 15 years, but that's irrelevant. Amy Allen got to you."
"Drop it, Syd," Face growled.
"You can be such a chicken shit." Sydney crossed her arms, and gazed unblinking at the tense Lieutenant. "Brave man, can take on a band of armed mercenaries, but slinks away from a woman he's fallen for? Show some back bone in your personal life, Face. I know you have one."
"I said, drop it, Sydney."
"Deny it, Templeton. Tell me you don't care about her, and I'll drop it like a hot potato."
"Of course I care about her . . ."
"Tell me you don't love her."
"You're pushing, Sydney . . ."
"For your own good."
They stared at each other for several seconds. Face stood abruptly and moved to the railing, his back turned resolutely toward his antagonist. Sydney sat back, a satisfied smile on her face. Richter shook his head. He had a feeling there was an interesting story behind that relationship. Murdock leaned in and he and Sydney exchanged words under their breath, too quiet for Richter to make out anything other than Face's and Amy's names.
BA strode out onto the deck and dropped into his chair.
Murdock grinned at him. "Hey, big guy. We missed you down at the lake."
Massive arms crossed, BA grunted. "Unlike some people, I had work to do. I recalibrated all the signal jammers using the Doc's satellite setup."
Hannibal emerged from the house in time to hear BA's statement. "How did that go?"
"Good. Nobody gettin' a call out now, 'less we want 'em to."
Hannibal nodded in approval as he took a seat. He turned to Richter. "Alright, let's get this show on the road."
"I am going to be here strictly to observe. When we left before lunch you were planning to begin reviewing the events of the day of the Bank of Hanoi job. This is your show, how do you wish to proceed?"
Hannibal took a long, thoughtful look at his pilot and the petite woman sitting next to him. "Sydney, you said you managed to remember some more of what happened after you left Murdock that morning. Why don't you walk us through it."
"Ok." Sydney's eyes tightened as she related the events she recalled after leaving Murdock the morning of January 27, 1972. Murdock had a hand lying on Sydney's knee, and her fingers were locked around it as she rehashed what she had recalled during her hiatus on the ridge.
Hannibal's brow furrowed. "So, Morrison, Kyeh, and third man were in the hootch? You said the voice was familiar. Can you narrow down where you might have heard it before?"
Sydney shook her head slowly. "I know it was someone I met after I arrived in country, but it couldn't have been anyone I had routine contact with, or I would be able to put a face with it. I just don't know."
"Ok, so you talked to Lewis, and he wanted to know what you had told Murdock. If we go under the assumption that Lewis was involved, he is probably the one who took you to the bunker where Murdock found you. Does that help you get past the block?" Hannibal asked.
The silence stretched as Sydney muttered to herself. Her fingers began their nervous tapping, and Murdock put a protective arm around her shoulders. "It's Ok, sugar."
Sydney shot to her feet and began pacing. "No, it's not."
Richter stepped forward, and guided the agitated woman back to her seat. "You need to relax, Sydney. Tension is going to make it harder for you to remember, not easier."
Murdock covered her hands with one of his, stilling the drumming, at least temporarily. Sydney relaxed back into the chair, though her face remained tight.
"Maybe it would help if you recreated what happened when you returned to based after you dropped us off, Murdock." Face offered this suggestion reluctantly, looking at his friend with concern.
"I don't . . . know . . ." Murdock rubbed the back of his neck.
Richter pulled a chair up in front of the pilot. "Listen, Murdock, this is no different then our sessions at the VA. You need to relax, and let the memories come. Sydney is sitting right beside you. Whatever you remember, that isn't going to change. You're both safe here."
Murdock took a deep breath and nodded.
"Let's start with the drop off," Richter suggested.
"You remember, Murdock." Face's voice was calm, soothing. "We landed at that LZ you identified just outside Hanoi. We were flying that junker that the Army had recovered from the North, and you pissed and moaned all the way to the LZ."
Murdock chuckled. "That bucket of bolts was barely air-worthy, but it did get us there, didn't it?" He smiled at his friend, then his gaze turned inward. "I lifted off as soon as the guys were clear. There was a lot of enemy activity, all the way back to base, and I took a few rounds, which in that rust bucket was the last straw. The maintenance sarge thought I was nuts . . ."
January 27, 1972 approximately 1900
"I need the damn chopper ready in 30 minutes." Murdock glared at the large Sergeant, thinking he looked like the yang to BA's ying. Were all of the mechanics in the Army that big?
"You are fucking Howlin' Mad, man. This chopper ain't goin' anywhere in 30 days, let alone 30 minutes. Don't know how ya got the fuckin' thing back here in the first place."
"Than you better get me a new one, Sarge, 'cause I gotta be in the air in 30. Capice?"
The Sergeant took a deep breath. "Yes sir, Captain."
Murdock swung from the Sergeant, who was still shaking his head over the condition of the chopper Murdock had limped back to base in. The smell of sulfur hung in the air, and the periodic blasts from enemy fire seemed to be getting louder and more frequent. Over the cacophony of noises, he heard a familiar voice calling his name and turned to find Jeremy Lewis waving a hand and loping toward him.
"Fuck." Murdock muttered. Lewis had seen him look. No way to ignore him now. Had Lew found out about last night? This was just what he needed.
He glanced at his watch pointedly as the intelligence agent stopped in front of him. "I gotta be in the air in 28 minutes and counting, so this better be quick, Lewis."
"We have a problem."
Murdock began striding toward HQ. Morrison wanted a status report before he left. Besides, maybe Lewis would take the hint. "What?"
"I think Syd may be right. I think Morrison is a turncoat. And I'm afraid he's gotten to her."
Murdock jerked to a stop and stared at Lewis. "Gotten to her how?"
"I haven't seen her all afternoon. And Morrison has been sequestered in the secured interrogation area all day. Do you think that's a coincidence?"
Murdock felt the knot of apprehension that had been tying in his gut since he left Syd early this morning double up. If she was right, that meant the Hanoi job was a set up. And if the Hanoi job was a setup . . . "Where's Morrison now?"
"Interrogation."
"Well, I need to see him anyway, so let's go visit and find out what's really going on."
They approached the barrack's that had been used by intelligence for holding and interrogating prisoners before transfer to longer-term facilities. Lewis led the way, motioning Murdock to the rear of the building. They reached the far corner, and Lewis pointed at the end unit and mouthed 'This is it.'
Murdock nodded, and hissed, "How do we get in?"
Lewis held up a key, and unlocked the back door. They flanked the room, and Murdock listened. He could hear someone moving around inside, but other than that it was quiet.
Murdock glanced over at Lewis, who was watching him with a curious look on his face. Lewis at his back didn't make him feel any safer, but if Sydney was in there, there weren't a lot of options. He pulled his service revolver, stood and pounded on the door. "Colonel Morrison. Captain Murdock here, sir, to provide a status update."
Again, he heard some shuffling inside, then the door opened to reveal Morrison. "Captain, I –"
Murdock brought up his 1911 and held the barrel against the middle of Morrison's forehead. "How's it goin' Colonel?"
"What the hell do you think you're doing Captain?"
"Who ya got in there, Colonel?" Murdock forced his CC back into the room. In the middle of the room an army blanket lay covering something on the floor. Lewis walked in and pulled the blanket back to reveal Sydney, who appeared to be unconscious.
Murdock felt his bile rise when he saw her. Morrison had been brutal in his interrogation, and Murdock knew from experience the kind of pain and mental anguish that underscored the physical evidence of the torture Sydney had been subjected to.
He heard a shot ring out and looked at the pistol in his hand in surprise. Then he turned toward Lewis and noted the smoke rising from the gun in the agent's hands. He shivered at the hate he saw reflected in Lewis' eyes. It was a profound, and all-consuming hate, and one that Murdock recognized that he shared. Looking down at his dead CC, he knew without a doubt that if Lewis hadn't pulled the trigger, he would have.
He thought he saw Sydney move out of the corner of his eye. He shoved his pistol back into its holster with shaking hands and dropped to his knees next to her. "Jesus, Sugar, what has he done to you?" His fingers wouldn't work right, as he tried to untie the knots binding Sydney's raw wrists. Her skin was so cold, even in the heat.
Lewis leaned down at Syd's head and put fingers to her throat. He put a stilling hand on Murdock's arm. "Captain, she's gone. And you have to get going. You're due at the pickup point soon."
Murdock placed a hand on her face and took a ragged breath. "I can't leave her here like this." A shell landed near enough to rock the building, and Murdock and Lewis both ducked and covered instinctively.
They sat up and Lewis put a hand on his arm. "I'll take care of her, Murdock. I promise. You have to go and get the Team. Syd was right, the Hanoi job was a setup – they're going to need you."
Murdock looked absently at his watch as he stumbled to his feet. "I have to go." He murmured. He stared at Sydney. "You're sure she's . . . gone?" He just couldn't bring himself to say 'dead' – it sounded too final.
"I'm afraid so." Lewis shook his head, his lips pressed in a thin line. "I should have checked on her sooner, but I was tied up all day."
Lewis stood and walked over, nudging Morrison's body with the toe of his boot. He pulled out his revolver and put another bullet in the CC for good measure. He tucked his pistol back in its holster. "At least the asshole responsible is dead. I'll get her body on a transport home." Lewis looked up at the Captain, his eyes full of sympathy. "It's the least I can do."
Murdock backed away, taking one last look at Sydney before nodding. "I gotta go." His voice was weak, shaky. He looked at Syd's partner. "Take good care of her, Lewis."
Lew smiled. "I will."
*
Murdock turned haunted eyes toward Sydney. "I thought you were dead. I didn't check myself. I took Lew's word for it. He said he'd take good care of you."
Sydney nodded, swallowed, and whispered. "He made me promise." A tear rolled down her cheek.
"You remember?" Richter asked.
She nodded as her fingers began their odd drumming. He had finally come to the conclusion that it was a coping mechanism of some sort, so he ignored it.
"What do you remember Sydney?" Hannibal asked.
"Lewis . . . caught me off-guard in his quarters. He must have knocked me out. When I woke, I was staked to a dirt floor . . . apparently in that interrogation bunker, though at the time I didn't realize that was where I was. When I first woke up I couldn't see anything. There was a hood or something over my head . . ."
January 27, 1972 approximately 1100
Sydney came around slowly, and opened her eyes, but it made little difference. The rough, dark cloth over her head barely let any light through, let alone images. There was tape over her mouth, forcing her to breathe through her nose. Hot, moist air enveloped her, the smell of dust and stale sweat nearly overwhelming. She could hear movement and a door slam, and struggled to remain still hoping to overhear something that would help her out of this mess.
"Goddamit, Lewis, what the hell were you thinking?" She recognized Morrison's voice.
"What was I supposed to do? Let her go to the authorities? They're already asking too many damn questions," Lewis said.
"We need to know what she knows, and what she's told Murdock." The third voice, low and smooth, was the same one from Morrison's hootch that morning. Sydney still couldn't place it.
"What do you suggest?" Morrison asked.
Movement, then that smooth, authoritative voice spoke again. "Lewis knows what to do. Make sure you break her. I don't want to take any chances. Then we'll dispose of her over the Laos border."
"You expect me to interrogate my own partner?" Lew's voice held of a hint of disbelief.
"She's a fucking Bureau rat, not your partner, Lewis. And what I expect is for you to do your fucking job." The third man said sharply. "Find out what she knows and then kill her. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Lewis sounded like a recalcitrant teenager.
"Don't 'sir' me, asshole. Just get the job done, and get rid of the evidence. Capice?"
"Capice."
More movement and the door slammed again.
Morrison spoke, his voice carrying a hint of revulsion. "I'll leave you to your work. I'll check back later, after I get Smith's Team on their way. We still need to come up with a strategy for dealing with Murdock. You gonna be Ok doing this, Lewis?"
"Orders are orders, right?" Lew's voice was flat. "Make sure nobody else enters the bunker today. I don't want to take any chances."
"With the pull-out commencing, we haven't used the bunker in weeks. You should be safe here. I'll have Curtis keep an eye out just in case."
Another door slam and she hear the deadbolt shoot home. Lew's footfalls approached and stopped near her head. He pulled off the hood, and Sydney looked up into the eyes of her partner, a man she had watched ruthlessly interrogate many an enemy captive. "So, you are awake. I thought you might be. I didn't give you that big a dose."
So he had hit her with knock out drugs of some sort. She remembered how impressed she had once been with how her partner seemed to be prepared for anything. She also realized what it meant to her in this situation.
He pulled out his knife, one of his favorite tools of the trade: a smooth, sharp seven-inch blade on one side, with even serrations along the other side. He had actually spent quite a bit of time customizing the blade for his own use, and took a great deal of pride in its effectiveness.
He slipped it under the lower hem of her shirt and Sydney winced as he drew the blade up, slicing through the fabric of her shirt while allowing the serrated edge to graze the skin along her spine. She could hear Lew's breath coming faster as he continued to slice through the rest of her clothing, removing it, piece by piece and leaving a stinging trail of scrapes everywhere he went.
Once he had removed all of her clothing, he leaned close to her ear, his breath hot. "Trust me, Sydney, this is going to hurt you far more than it hurts me." He tangled his hand in her hair then proceeded to cut around his fist, shearing the hair off her head. Sydney watched as he held the fistful of hair to his nose and inhaled, before shoving it into his pocket. She watched in horror as he lowered his pants. She felt the pressure of him on her back, and once again his breath was hot in her ear as he penetrated her. "I'll make you forget your pilot, Sydney."
*
The flood gates in her memory had opened, and Sydney gasped as scenes flashed through her conscious mind, un-narrated. She drew her knees up to her chin, in an attempt to stop the trembling that wracked her body.
"Stop this!" Murdock looked desperately at Dr. Richter.
"Sydney, you're safe here," Richter said soothingly.
"Syd, I'm right here with you. It's gonna be ok." Murdock seemed afraid to touch her, and Richter thought that was probably a good thing, given what Sydney was likely remembering.
Tears coursed down her cheeks. "It hurts." Her red-rimmed eyes stared straight ahead, blood-shot and terrified. Richter crouched in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Sydney, listen to me. You are safe. No one is going to hurt you here. Your memories cannot hurt you."
She nodded, but the trembling became even more pronounced. BA appeared and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. "S'ok, little sister. We're right here with you. We ain't gonna let anything happen to you."
"Sydney, where are you?" Richter spoke sharply, demanding her attention.
She looked at him in confusion for a moment, then her eyes swiveled to look around her. She unclamped her mouth long enough to say, "Oregon. I'm in Oregon."
Richter nodded. "And are you safe?"
She nodded. The trembling had abated to a periodic shudder, and the tears slowed.
Murdock shook his head. "Enough of this."
"It's ok, HM. I'm Ok." Sydney's voice was raspy, but firm.
Murdock didn't look convinced, but Hannibal leaned forward. "We need to know what you remember, Sydney. We need to know who the third guy is."
Richter gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Sydney, do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"I want you to close your eyes."
She complied.
"There is no pain, Sydney. I want you to listen to the voice of the third man. Think about when you've heard this voice before. What was it saying?"
Sydney swayed in her seat. "After HM left."
Murdock looked at her. "You weren't blindfolded when I left. Did you see him?"
Fresh tears welled out of her eyes. "No, it was after Lewis put me in the body bag. He helped Lew carry me out to a waiting Jeep." Sydney's eyes went wide. "He thought I was dead, too. Lew lied to him."
"Then what happened?"
"Lewis took me into Laos, to an old supply depot just over the border. I recognized it from a recon we did . . ." Sydney paused. "He hung me like meat in one of the sheds, then left to hide the jeep. Before he came back, a group of CIA-trained Hmong tribesmen showed up. I think I talked to them before I passed out. I don't recall much after that. They must have taken me to the hospital. The next thing I remember is waking up there several weeks later."
Richter was gratified to see Sydney loosen her grip on her knees and uncurl from the fetal position she had been sitting in. Though her eyes were still red, her voice was fairly calm and analytical. She seemed to be weathering the recovery of the memories amazingly well.
He heard the heavy tread of Hannibal pacing behind him, and turned to see the Colonel puffing on a cigar, looking like an old steam engine as he tracked back and forth. "We're still no closer to finding out who the hell was orchestrating all of this. Who is the third man? That's what we need to know. He's the guy who pulls Lewis' strings."
"I'm sorry, Hannibal." Sydney looked crestfallen. "I just can't place the voice. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried."
Hannibal gave her a fleeting smile. "I'm not blaming you kid. You've done more than we should have asked of you." He sighed. "Our suspects haven't changed: Stockwell, Quinn, Cheney – am I missing anyone? Would you recognize the voice if you heard it again, Syd?"
"Maybe? I don't know. It's been a long time." Sydney's eyes widened. "The third man referred to me as a 'Bureau rat' – " She looked up at Hannibal as the pieces fell into place. "I didn't work for the CIA, I worked for the FBI. The Bureau headed the state-side task force. I was sent in with a group of hand-selected agents to find the other end of the smuggling ring. Quinn was the FBI manager in country."
Face took a deep breath. "So we have three equally-likely possibilities, Quinn, Stockwell and Cheney."
"I just can't believe Cheney was involved," Murdock insisted.
"And as I've said, I'm not going to trust instincts about a man you haven't had contact with for over 15 years." Hannibal gave Murdock a stern look. "Quinn, Cheney and Stockwell – any of them could be connected enough to pull this off. We treat all as enemies until we know different."
"Pretty damn undefined enemy," Face said.
Hannibal ignored his Lieutenant and gazed out at the lake. "Well, I guess that means we move on to Plan B."
"And what is Plan B, Hannibal?" BA asked.
Hannibal's eyes narrowed. "It's a work in progress. I'll let you know what I come up with."
"When he comes up with it," Face muttered.
"Do you have anything constructive to add, Lieutenant?" Hannibal's voice was sharp.
Face stood up. "I'm sick of the waiting, Hannibal. We can take care of Lewis but where does that leave us? With some unknown assailant, coming at us with seemingly unlimited resources? I'm not sure we're left with a lot of choices here."
"I know what you're thinking, Face. But we've come too far to give up now. I'm not willing to skip the country at this stage of the game."
Murdock looked at Hannibal narrowly. "You're thinking of setting a trap."
"We get word out to Stockwell that Sydney remembers. That should shake things loose," Hannibal said.
"But you don't have any guarantees that it will shake the head honcho loose," Face said. "We're still in the same boat."
Hannibal acknowledged the accuracy of Face's statement with a curt nod. "I think we've learned all we can from these sessions." He turned to Richter and shook his hand. "Thanks for your help, Doc. I think it might be best if you and Amy headed out of here this afternoon. I don't want you getting caught up in whatever comes next."
*
Richter shook the offered hand, and for the first time in 24 hours felt a sense of redemption. "I'm not going anywhere, Colonel. And I seriously doubt you'll get Amy to budge either."
Hannibal grunted. "Or Maggie, for that matter. Alright. Hopefully we're safe enough for now. BA, you take first watch, I'll relieve you at midnight. Face, 0600."
"Murdock at noon?" Face asked.
"By then we'll have a plan of action and be on the move," Hannibal said as he strode into the house.
* * * *
Prologue to Chapter 19
From Redmond, the trip to Sisters, Oregon only took Ike about half an hour. It helped that it was early evening on Friday, after most of the commuters were already home. It also didn't hurt that Ike was a habitual speeder. He weaved in and out of the sparse traffic on the McKenzie Highway at a break-neck speed, intent on getting to the Sisters Eagle Air Airport.
Once there, Ike was escorted onto General Stockwell's jet by one of his so-called Able agents. Ike smiled at the irony of the terminology. He followed the man, infrared scan in hand, into the General's on-board office. Stockwell paced behind a large desk that Ike was certain was designed to intimidate. Stockwell was a master of intimidation, but it didn't faze Ike. He had known Stockwell too long to be intimidated him. Hell, he had lived too hard and too long to be intimidated by pretty much anyone or anything.
Stockwell swung around to face him. "So, you decided to come out here after all, eh, Cheney? I haven't seen Mr. Lewis, yet. I told you I would call."
Ike dropped the scan onto the desk and unrolled it. "The scan you requested."
"You came all the way out here to give this to me?" Stockwell's tone was skeptical.
Ike shrugged. "That's not the only reason. You know as well as I do that just because you haven't seen Lewis doesn't mean he's not here."
"Oh, I didn't say he wasn't here, just that I have not seen him."
"I was hoping we could work together on this, sort of, off the record. For old time's sake."
The glowing red image that overlaid a very remote location in the Cascades on an underlying topographic map held Stockwell's attention even while he spoke. "Getting nervous?"
"I may be beginning to feel the heat for not producing Sydney Wilson in a, shall we say, timely manner."
Veiled eyes peered at Ike from behind those damn sunglasses. They were effective at masking what little information the General might provide in his already guarded gaze. Ike held his face impassive.
Thin lips quirked up at the corners, and a muted 'hmph' escaped as Stockwell leaned over to examine routes into the A-Team's location. "For old time's sake is hardly an adequate motivator, old friend. Certainly you can offer more than that?"
"As we discussed earlier, I can offer you part of the credit for bringing Lewis in."
Stockwell sat in the leather desk chair and steepled his hands in front of his face, a smug look firmly in place. "And just what form of assistance are you seeking?"
"I have decided, after some persuasion that it would be prudent to retrieve Sydney Wilson and bring her in for questioning."
"Very well." Stockwell leaned forward and pressed an intercom buzzer. Ike had the distinct impression that Stockwell had planned to retrieve Sydney Wilson, anyway.
A blond woman, impeccably dressed, strode into the room. "Yes, General?"
"Please have Able 8 arrange for off-road transport and surveillance scanning equipment. Oh, and map the quickest route to the location shown on this IR scan." He grabbed the map off the desk and handed it to the woman, who spun on her heel and left without further instruction.
"Wouldn't flying in be quicker?"
"It probably would be, but landing zones in that country are difficult to come by."
"I would wager Captain Murdock wouldn't have a problem finding one." Ike smiled.
"If I had the Captain's services I might feel differently about our mode of transportation. However, by going in on the ground, I plan to get closer without them realizing we are coming. They will have a surveillance perimeter set up, but over the last year, I have come to know the A-Team's methods fairly well. We should be able to avoid detection until we reach the house. Otherwise, they may spirit Ms. Wilson away to somewhere we will never find her."
The woman reappeared and held the neatly-rolled IR scan out to the General. "I have the coordinates, sir. Would you like this back?"
"Thank you, Carla." Stockwell held the scan out to Cheney. "You might want to dispose of that. We wouldn't want the wrong person getting hold of it."
Ike took it back as Carla continued to wait. Stockwell turned to her. "Is there something else?" His tone conveyed mild irritation, but the woman didn't flinch.
"Yes, sir. Able 8 would like to clarify your instructions. It should take just a moment."
Stockwell gave a curt nod and stood. "I will return momentarily. Please, make yourself comfortable."
As the door closed behind them, Ike unrolled the scan and folded it so that the title block for the topo was visible, careful to make sure that it laid flat. He shuffled carefully through the few papers on Stockwell's desk, finally deciding that the out box was a good place. He slipped the folded scan under the top paper in the out box, just as Stockwell reappeared.
"Arrangements should be complete within the hour. It's a lengthy trip, but there is a small heliport closer to our destination. We will take a chopper and head there, while Carla sets up command central here. Are you ready?"
Ike nodded. "Lead the way, General."
Stockwell smiled thinly. "Oh, I insist, after you."
*
As Isaac Cheney strode out of the cabin, Hunt Stockwell removed the top paper in his in box and set it on his desk. There was no point in taking the chance that Mr. Lewis could miss the map.
CHAPTER 19: Not so Idyllic Interlude
Face walked out on the deck to find Amy and Murdock chatting. He felt an unreasonable pang of jealousy, but it passed quickly, and he decided that maybe, with Murdock there, it would be safe to talk to Amy casually; try to get their relationship at least back to the status quo, if not take that bold step Hannibal and Sydney had suggested. After all, what did he have to lose? 'A good friend,' his inner voice taunted.
He was about to bolt, but Murdock looked up and grinned at him. He was stuck and grimaced as his best friend goaded him almost as harshly as his own inner voice. "Ah, if it isn't the handsome qui no sabe."
Face heaved a resigned sigh and dropped into a nearby lounge chair. "So, Amy, what kind of stories has the mad man been regaling you with?"
Amy looked at Murdock affectionately, and Face felt another flash of envy. "He's been filling me in about the last year, while you guys have been working for Stockwell. Guy sounds like a real piece of work."
Face snorted. "If by 'piece of work' you mean manipulative, vindictive bastard, then I'd have to agree."
"Murdock said you guys like to flaunt your ability to override Stockwell's security by throwing wild parties. Sounds very Face-like." Was she sneering at him?
"Really more Hannibal-like," Murdock interjected.
"Right." Amy neither looked, nor sounded convinced.
"Actually, Face has been rather chaste, lately." Face groaned inwardly as Murdock clumsily tried to defend his honor. "And, he's been pretty much incarcerated at the compound, which makes, you know, phone calls and dates and stuff kind of difficult."
He smiled triumphantly. Face just shook his head. Murdock had subtlety down to a mad science.
Murdock abruptly stood, an even broader grin splitting his face. "Ah, there's my lady. Sorry guys. I'd love to sit and chat, but it looks like Syd is headed upstairs, and I hate to see her go alone!"
Face watched in dismay as Murdock disappeared inside, leaving him alone on the deck with Amy. Damn. He turned to her and smiled. "Those two are a little sickening right now."
Amy shrugged. "I think it's sweet."
"Sweet, yeah."
She crossed her arms. "It's obvious they're crazy about each other. We should all be so lucky."
"Lucky, yeah."
Amy glared at him. "Well, what would you call it?"
"Let's face it, Amy. Murdock's never been the sharpest tool in the shed where women are concerned."
"Oh, and you are?" Amy's voice dripped sarcasm.
"I know what they're good for, yeah." It came out, even though he recognized that it was the wrong thing to say.
Amy's face tightened, her eyes flashing. "A quick roll in the hay, isn't that about it, Lieutenant?"
Face tried for a safer tone and topic, to pull the conversation back from the brink of disaster. "I'm not saying they aren't good for each other, they are. But you have to admit that every time they get together disaster seems to strike."
"And you think that's because they get together? You're more screwed up than I thought, Face."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Amy stared at him for several seconds before responding, "Tell me, Face. Have you ever relied solely on a woman for more than sex?"
"Sure I have. Maggie . . . you – we all rely on you to be there for us."
"Right, to be there for the Team." Amy smirked and shook her head. "That's not what I mean, Face. Have you ever relied solely on a woman for more than sex?"
"I don't think I'm getting you . . ."
"And you never will." Amy stood up and started to walk away.
Face jumped to his feet and followed. "Wait a minute, Amy. You can't just spout some cryptic bullshit and walk away. Explain how screwed up I am. I really want to know just what you think is wrong with me."
She stopped, her back still to him and he nearly collided with her. When she turned, they were only a few inches apart. He could smell her – a light floral scent mingled with her sweet-smelling sweat. He could feel the heat of her anger radiating from her body, tense in front of him. He cursed silently at himself as he felt his body's primal reaction to her.
Her words were low and intense, and fell on him like the pinpricks of a cold shower. "You are always looking for a quick lay, Face, never looking beyond the night. Dreading the next morning, when you have to face the stark reality that the woman you screwed is a real, live human being, totally separate from you. But that doesn't really matter to you, anyway, because her feelings, and thoughts, and . . . being have no further impact on you. There's no emotional entanglement – makes it easy for you to walk away, doesn't it?"
Face could feel his heart throbbing in his temple as he stared into Amy's wide eyes. He grabbed one of her arms and shook her. "That's what you think? No emotional entanglement? Bullshit, Amy." He jabbed a finger into his own chest. "I wasn't the one that walked away." Then he jabbed it at her. "You left for Jakarta."
Tears slipped down Amy's cheeks. "But you were the one who was gone in the morning, Face. I woke up and you were just gone."
He dropped her arm and took a step back. "Because I didn't want the guys to know . . ."
"Because you were ashamed."
"Amy, it . . . it wasn't like that."
"Then how was it, Face?"
He stared at her tear-streaked face, and struggled to find words that would make everything alright between them. But all that he could think of were all the reasons he really left her in bed alone – and none of those would help in this situation, of that he was certain. After a minute of waiting, her expression fading from hopeful to crushed, Amy turned and fled down the steps toward the lake.
Face could only watch her leave. What could he say? That he had awakened after the incredible night they spent together, and bolted in pure terror? One thought flashed through his mind in bold, impossible-to-ignore neon: He was a coward.
* * *
Murdock walked through the living room, and considered where to go from here. He hadn't really seen Syd going up the stairs. After the session she had insisted on some alone time and taken off toward the lake. Personally, he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now. Every time he relaxed, the images of Sydney in that bunker flooded his mind and refused to be ignored. He glanced out to the deck, saw that Amy and Face were engrossed in their conversation and veered away from the stairs and into the kitchen, where Maggie and Hannibal were making dinner.
The couple was sitting in the breakfast nook, talking, and looked up as Murdock walked in. The smell of beef roast was comforting, and Murdock opened the oven door to get a face full of the delicious scent. Beef roast always reminded him of his grandparents' ranch. He had spent some of the best times of his young life there.
"How are you, HM?" Maggie's voice conveyed concern and affection.
The oven door squeaked closed and Murdock turned and smiled at Maggie and Hannibal: the two people who headed the closest thing to family that Murdock had known in a long time. What would happen if they couldn't resolve this situation? If they had to skip the country? He couldn't lie to either one of them. He was worried. "I'm as good as can be expected, I guess."
"Where's Syd?" Hannibal had his hands wrapped around a coffee mug, no cigar in sight.
Murdock smiled inwardly. Maggie was the only person who could coerce Hannibal into giving up his cigars. "She said she needed some time alone. She processes differently than I do. Personally, I'd like to go back to blissful ignorance. Not sure I'll be able to sleep again."
Hannibal's piercing gaze was locked on him. "She was in bad shape when you got into the bunker, wasn't she?"
Murdock frowned, nodded. "I didn't check for a pulse, but when I touched her, I remember how cold she felt. Still I should have –"
"Stop right there, HM." Maggie's tone was uncompromising. "You did what you could. It's possible, given what little I've heard about her injuries, that even if you had felt for a pulse you wouldn't have found one. Weak, thready pulses are difficult to detect under the best of circumstances. And, you had other concerns on your mind at the time."
"Doesn't change the fact that I didn't trust Lewis. I can't believe I would have left her there with him." Murdock leaned against the counter, thoughts beginning to wander.
"Maggie's right, Murdock. You thought she was dead. What more could Lewis do to her?"
But Murdock wasn't really listening, he was back on base, walking out of the interrogation bunker; running toward the heliport. He remembered finding the sergeant. "Sorry, Captain. It's gonna be a few more minutes before you're ready to go. I've got a slick just about prepped for you, It's fueling now." Left at loose ends, Murdock had time to think about what had happened, and decided he should return to the bunker –
"Captain, are you alright?" Hannibal was standing in front of him, shaking his shoulder.
"The chopper wasn't ready when I got back to the heliport." Murdock looked at his commanding officer. "I went back to the bunker . . ."
Hannibal stepped back. "And?"
Murdock shook his head and stood up. "And . . . I don't know. I remember starting back toward the bunker, but the memory peters out there. I don't think I made it back to the room . . ." He messaged his temples, shook his head. "Damn, it just won't come."
Hannibal squeezed his shoulder. "Stop thinking about it. Maybe if you relax, put it out of your mind, it'll come to you."
Murdock nodded. "Yeah, maybe."
Maggie pulled a huge pan out of the oven and hefted it onto the stove top. She lifted the lid and enveloped all of them in the heavenly smell of pot roast and veggies. Murdock sighed, and smiled. "I'm hungry."
"Well, why don't you set the table while we get dinner dished up," Maggie suggested.
"Yes, ma'am." Murdock gave her a sloppy salute, before opening the cupboard to get down a stack of plates.
* * *
Amy arrived down at the lake and stopped short. Sydney glanced back at her from the bench, then turned to face her, blue eyes full of sympathy and concern. Amy swiped at her face in irritation – if anyone should feel sorry for anyone, Amy should feel sorry for Sydney. The woman had been through hell and there didn't appear to be any end in sight. It made her and Face's situation seem petty and inconsequential.
"Are you Ok?"
Amy took a deep breath, and nodded. "I thought you were up at the house."
Sydney shook her head. "I needed some quiet time to think, get things into perspective."
Amy shook her head as she realized Murdock had just been making an excuse to leave her and Face alone. She made a mental note to have a stern talk with him about keeping his nose in his own business. She refocused on Sydney, and Murdock's brief description of the later afternoon session sent a chill of pity through her. "Murdock told me a little bit about what you . . . remembered. If there's anything I can do to help –"
"No." Sydney's smile seemed sad. "But thanks for the offer. I've spent half my life in therapy. I know all the tricks of the trade at this point. Just need to put some of the coping techniques to use, that's all." She turned and gazed back out at the lake.
Amy walked forward and gripped the back of the bench. She stared at Sydney. "How do you do it? If I were in your position, I'd be a mess."
She shrugged. "Like I told Hannibal, I've always been good at compartmentalization. You have to be when bad things happen, or you can make yourself crazy. You think about it, cry about it, maybe even get angry, but in the end, you can't let it rule your life. In my head, I put it all in a box and tuck it into the attic. It's there, but it isn't in the foyer staring you in the face every day – know what I mean?"
"So you just pack the bad stuff up and forget about it?"
"It's there if I need it." Sydney sighed. "Today has been like a moving day, where you pull out all the old dusty boxes to see what you need to take with you. Some of the boxes were in a padlocked area that I hadn't been able to open. Today, I broke that lock, but now I remember why I originally threw away the key."
Sydney looked up at Amy, and slid over some. "Enough with bad analogies. I wouldn't mind some company right now; a voice outside my head that lives in a saner world. Why don't you have a seat?"
Amy glanced at her uncertainly, but rounded the bench and sat down. She gazed across the lake, where Haley and Frankie swam near a boulder that jutted up and offered a good jumping spot into deeper water. Amy had left them there earlier. "They are going to be water logged by the time dinner is ready."
Sydney chuckled. "Haley loves the water. She says she can't trip and look like a klutz in the water."
"She's a beautiful young woman, Sydney."
"Yes, she is. I wouldn't give her up, even if it meant going through all of it again. She's the best thing that ever happened to me."
"I was going to say that you're lucky, but that just sounds so wrong," Amy said.
*
Sydney smiled, shrugged. "I guess it's all in your perspective. I grew up a lot like Haley – it was just me and my Mom. We moved around a lot and I never really put down roots anywhere. After Mom died, I was all alone . . . until I met HM, and Face . . . Ray." Sydney's voice broke, and tears welled in her eyes. The one thing she hadn't really accepted yet was that Ray was dead. The loss was too great.
"You were close to Ray?"
"He was like this incredible older brother. I mean, don't get me wrong, Hannibal is great, but he was dead set against Murdock and me, kinda like a disapproving father-figure. Ray smoothed it over. He was always there when we needed him. You know, I think I missed those guys even without knowing what I was missing."
Amy nodded. "I think I know what you mean. I missed being part of the Team. It's grown to become more of a family than a military unit. I guess 15 years on the run forces you closer."
"It started, even back in 'Nam. Hannibal always had a soft spot for the misfit men he took on. It's what made them such a good unit. They were the best alpha team on the post, and it was no accident. I felt privileged to be part of it, even if it was just on the fringes."
Amy's gaze had turned brooding. "What do you think is going to happen now?"
Sydney knitted her brow, and tried to interpret what Amy was talking about. That was one of the most loaded questions she had ever heard. She decided to hold her tongue and see what direction Amy took the conversation.
"Hannibal wants Dr. Richter and me to leave, but if I leave . . ." She shook her head. "I don't want to lose them again, but I'm afraid it's inevitable."
"Then don't leave."
"I'm not. But if Hannibal decides it's safest to skip the country, then what? He's going to want to travel light. And I can't just leave. Neither can Maggie."
"We aren't going to skip the country."
"Murdock said it may be the only option."
Sydney shook her head, resolved. "No. There's always another option. I refuse to accept the idea of being on the run for the rest of my life. Haley . . . hell, I deserve better than that. It's not going to happen."
Amy smiled. "Thanks, I hope you're right."
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, as laughter and yelling reached them across the water. Sydney allowed thoughts of the situation between Amy and Face to crowd out her own concerns for awhile. Worrying about other people's problems had always been good therapy for her own. She glanced periodically at the sad, resigned expression on Amy's face before finally broaching the subject. "So, have you talked to him?"
Amy jerked her head around to look at Sydney, obviously surprised by the sudden change of subject. "What?"
"Why were you crying when you came down here?"
Amy stared at her for several long seconds. Sydney sighed. "Come on, Amy, give."
"I talked to him . . ." Amy's voice broke, and then it all spilled out, and she was crying again. Sydney put an arm around her shoulders and patted her back.
"He was ashamed of me," Amy finished. "I can't believe I was so stupid."
Sydney shook her head. "You are reading what Face said all wrong, Amy."
Amy sniffed and sat up. "How so?"
"Face is one of the bravest men I know, but when it comes to personal interactions, he's always been . . ." Sydney stopped herself from saying 'a pussy' and continued in an analytical tone that she was sure Asher or Richter would have admired, "overly cautious. He suffers from abandonment issues. That, coupled with the stressors from his childhood and the war, have produced the handsome con man we know and love today."
"Huh?" Amy's tears had dried, and she was gazing at Sydney with a skeptical expression.
"Face finds it difficult to commit, so he bounces from one bimbo to the next, always focusing on the women that attract him physically, and only physically. I watched it happen over in 'Nam, and from what Murdock has told me, his behavior hasn't changed."
"So I'm just another bimbo." Amy's eyebrows were arched high above her eyes, and she looked mildly insulted.
Sydney shook her head. "That's part of the problem, Amy. You aren't just another bimbo. Let me take a stab, here. You and Face, probably Murdock, you were close, good friends. You hung out together, joked around."
Amy shrugged. "Yeah, Face and Murdock were closest to my age, so I guess we naturally . . . gravitated toward each other."
"It was the same way with me and them back in 'Nam." Sydney turned and propped a leg up on the bench, so she faced Amy. "It's tough hanging out with a couple of intelligent, handsome guys and not falling for one of them. But the catch is, you're friends, nothing more. And I don't know about you, but I always subscribed to the whole 'never sleep with a friend' credo. It just has the potential to mess up a perfectly good friendship."
Amy nodded miserably. "Like it did for me and Face."
"But see, Amy, I learned that that is the coward's credo of personal relationships. The truth is that if you are friends, really good friends with someone, there's no better person for you to enter into a more serious relationship with. Face knows that subconsciously. It's why he avoids sleeping with women that he connects with on anything but a physical level. But see, with you, he let his guard down. And now he's screwed. He fell in love, and it scares the shit out of him."
Sydney took Amy's hand, and looked intently into her eyes. "You're going to have to be strong, Amy, and persistent. Take a lesson from Murdock. He knows what it's like to deal with this kind of thing." She smiled. "Maybe he could give you some pointers."
The dinner bell rang, and they both looked up toward the house. Sydney gave Amy's hand a squeeze and released it. "It'll work out – may not be easy, but it'll work out. You just have to have faith."
Sydney stood and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Hey, you two human prunes – it's time for dinner!"
* * *
Murdock walked out on the deck and caught Sydney's hand, pulling her up from the chair she was sitting in and leading her to a lounge. He sat down and beckoned for her to join him. "Ok, I've given you your space. Now indulge me and let me hold you."
Sydney smiled and sank down in front of him. She leaned back and Murdock enveloped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. "Are you feeling better?" He murmured against her ear.
She shifted and put her arms around him. "I feel perfect right now." She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.
Murdock pressed his lips against her head. "I love you, sugar; more than you'll ever know."
Sydney smiled. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea. The feeling is mutual, you know."
Haley plopped into the chair next to them. "Face is right, you two need to get a room."
"We have a room," Murdock said with a grin. "We just like to gross you out."
"It's working." Haley tried grimacing, but she started giggling when she looked over at Murdock, who had his eyes crossed with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
Amy appeared and glanced around the deck, her eyes landing on Sydney and Murdock. She walked over and smiled at them. "Comfy?"
"Very." Sydney murmured.
Murdock smoothed a hand over her hair, and smiled. "If you weren't so stubborn we could have been comfy like this awhile ago."
Sydney's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Amy. "Did you need something?"
Amy shifted and licked her lips. "Have either of you seen Face since dinner? I was kinda . . . hoping to talk to him."
Murdock's eyebrows traveled up his forehead. "About what?"
Sydney sat up and smacked him. "None of your business." She turned to Amy. "I haven't seen him. Maybe –"
"He's upstairs." Murdock interrupted. "He wasn't feeling sociable tonight. Last I saw him, he was on the veranda at the end of the house."
Amy patted her leg nervously. "Thanks, Murdock." She hesitated, looked at Sydney. "Wish me luck?"
"Luck," Sydney offered, along with a warm smile. "But you don't need it. Just be honest with him. And if he insists on being a jerk, come back down and we'll talk. Then I'll kick his ass."
A nervous bark of laughter escaped Amy's lips. "Thanks, Syd." She hurried back into the house.
"It's none of my business, huh?" Murdock asked.
"It's none of our business. Unless Face is stubborn, which I wouldn't put past him."
"Kinda like somebody else I know." Murdock pulled Sydney back into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips while Haley made gagging sounds next to them.
* * *
Amy's steps faltered once she reached the top of the stairs. She could see Face leaning against the deck railing on the veranda at the end of the hall. It was a clear night, and the full moon made it almost as bright out as day, though the colors were muted. Despite the chill in the air, Face was in a tank top and shorts, and Amy felt her body react to the vivid memory of the feel of that muscular body. She swallowed and forced herself to calm down and run over the points she wanted to make once more.
Her final rehearsal complete, she smoothed her shirt down, took a deep breath and walked resolutely to the end of the hall, and through the French doors to join him at the railing.
He turned and looked at her in surprise, but she rushed to give her speech before he could trip her up. "Face, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I think I was so afraid that you would reject me that I decided to beat you to the punch. The truth is, I went to Jakarta for the same reason, and the only reason I came back was because I was miserable away from you . . . all of you. But . . ." She took a shuddering breath. "Especially, I missed you."
She hesitated, afraid to meet his eyes - afraid of what she might see there. Amusement, ridicule, . . . rejection. She had replayed Sydney's earlier words of reassurance in her head over and over to work up the courage to talk to Face truthfully. But now that she was here, the courage was gone, and all that was left was the raw fear of rejection.
Face's finger hooked under her chin, forcing her to raise her eyes to meet his gaze. She was surprised at the emotions she thought she recognized there: insecurity, disbelief, maybe even fear. Or was she just projecting her own mixed up feelings onto him?
"You don't have anything to apologize for, Amy." Face swallowed. "I'm the one who owes you an apology. I never meant to hurt you. I never should have seduced you. It was wrong, and I'm afraid I've ruined the friendship we had by taking advantage of you."
"You seduced me?" Amy was surprised at the anger she felt well up inside of her. She grabbed Face's collar, "Sydney's right. You are a coward. What are you really afraid of, Face? Are you afraid that I'll tie you down? Well as sad as it sounds, I'd take whatever you're willing to give. I love you that much."
Face stared at her, his eyes far too large in his face, his rapid breathing mirrored by her own. He extracted her fingers from his shirt and turned and walked away. Amy felt like laughing and crying at the same time. "Coward," She growled after him.
He stopped, and turned to look at her. His eyes guarded. "Sydney is right, and she should know. She's the only other woman I've ever kissed and really meant it. I would have taken her from Murdock if she'd have had me. How sick does that make me? Trust me, Amy, I am not the man you want . . . or deserve. I love you enough to walk away."
Amy felt shock, and a slight sense of betrayal by Sydney, but in the end, it didn't change how she felt about the man standing in front of her. "It is not just your decision to make, Face."
"You don't know what you're letting yourself in for, Amy. I'll hurt you. It's inevitable."
Amy moved so she stood in front of him. "What are you afraid of, Face? For once, be truthful – with yourself and with me."
He licked his lips, hesitated. Amy swore his eyes moistened, and she took a step forward, longing to comfort him, but she stopped short, and waited for him to answer.
"I'm terrified . . ."
"Of what, Face?"
"That I'll screw up so bad I'll lose you forever."
"I don't think that's possible." Amy reached out and touched his cheek.
"It's not only possible, I think it's highly probable." Face's jaw clenched and he took a step away from her. "It's better this way, Amy."
"So it doesn't matter what I want?"
Face's chuckle was dry and humorless. "What do you want, Amy? Do you even know?"
Amy considered the question seriously. "Maybe not, but I'll tell you what I do know, Face. I want you by my side."
"And as a friend, I can give you that, but nothing more. I won't hurt you like I did before." Face's mouth was set in a thin, stubborn line.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back, and tried for an angry tone, though there was an unintended quiver in her voice. "But don't you see, Face. You're hurting me now."
He swallowed, shook his head. "I can't seem to win."
Amy took a deep breath to get her emotions back under control. She smiled thinly at him. "I would think by now you'd realize that life isn't about winning. I'm willing to give us a try, Face. If you are."
It felt like a lifetime as Face looked at her, uncertainty and longing warring in his expression. Then, in two steps he crushed her in his arms, claiming her with a kiss that made her head swim. They melted together, and Amy decided that even if he left her bed tomorrow, she was going to make tonight count.
* * *
Murdock bolted upright in bed and sat, silent, his head cocked off to the side.
Sydney rolled over and looked up at him. "What is it?"
"Sh." Murdock counted for a moment under his breath, then stood up. He pulled his pants on and in seconds was rushing out the door, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "Get up. Get dressed and get Haley moving, too."
He pounded on BA's door, but at Face's he stopped short. The door hung open and Face's bed was empty.
"What is it, fool?" BA stood in the hall glaring at Murdock.
"We've got company coming." Murdock turned in time to see Face appear at the door to Amy's room. He noted the fact with interest, but was too intent on their immediate problem to comment. "We need to get everyone up and moving. There's a chopper headed this way."
"Shit." Face disappeared back into the room. Murdock didn't wait; he headed downstairs to talk to Hannibal.
As Murdock hit the bottom of the stairs at a jog, Hannibal appeared in the living room, a quizzical expression on his face. "What are you doing up, Captain?"
"There's a chopper headed this way, Colonel." Murdock headed out onto the deck and stood listening. Hannibal followed, waiting quietly beside him. "There's only one, I'd put it only a few klicks away to the southeast and moving this direction."
"That's pretty damn bold." Hannibal said.
"Wait . . ." Murdock held up a hand. His shoulders slumped. "I don't hear it anymore."
"Landed?" Hannibal suggested.
"If so, they've got a hike to get in here," Murdock said. "Buys us some time."
Hannibal chuckled. "Thanks to your super-human hearing."
Murdock's smile was modest. "Only where aircraft are concerned."
* * * *
CHAPTER 20: Getting the Party Started
Back in the living room everyone was assembling. BA and Face had opened the gun cabinet, and selected weapons. Face handed one to Murdock, and BA handed one to Hannibal. Both checked their clips out of habit.
Hannibal nodded as he locked his clip back into place and tucked a spare into his belt. "Murdock thinks our bogey landed a few klicks southeast of here. We begin continuous monitoring of the perimeter starting now, and working in teams. BA, you're with me. We take first round. Murdock, Face, keep watch here. Frankie, you have the monitors."
Face and Murdock conferred quietly for a minute as BA and Hannibal disappeared out the front door. Murdock strode toward the stairs, stopping briefly by Sydney to drop a kiss on her forehead. Then he bounded up the stairs, and Face turned to the assembled company. "We're going to move this party into the office," he said, indicating the door to the inner room, where there were no windows. "You can all flake out in there, and try to get some sleep. It's going to be a long night."
Haley looked at her mother. "Mom, I'm scared."
Sydney nodded. "We all are, but the Team knows what they're doing."
She and Amy held back as the others moved into the office.
"Face?" Syd looked at him quizzically.
He turned, smiled ruefully at Syd, and studiously avoided looking at Amy. He didn't need any distractions right now. He knew the waiting and confinement would be hardest on Sydney. "You have your sidearm?"
"Yes, but I'm gonna go nuts sitting in a goddammed locked room all night."
"You're the likely target, Syd. We're not taking any chances. You wait in there with everyone else." His words left no room for argument.
"Fine. But I'm less than happy with the accommodations." She indicated Amy with a wave of her hand. "At least let Amy and me go upstairs and get some pillows and blankets so everyone can be semi-comfortable."
Face nodded and watched as Syd and Amy walked up the stairs. He ground his teeth and turned resolutely from the view. Damn distractions.
* * *
Sydney, eyes half-closed, was slouched in the wingback chair by the door. It had taken awhile to get Haley calmed down and asleep. Hopefully, by the time she woke up this would all be behind them.
The door opened a crack, then closed almost immediately. She stood, opened the door and hissed at the retreating back. "Face?"
He turned. "I thought everyone was asleep."
Pulling the door almost shut behind her, Sydney shook her head. "I'm too keyed up to sleep. I think everyone else is out, though."
Face scrutinized her and she shifted uncomfortably. "What?"
"You need to get some sleep, Syd."
"Every time I close my eyes . . ." She shuddered. "I can't sleep, Face."
"Well, I was just going to stop in and let everyone know that it's still quiet out here."
"Hannibal and BA?"
"They just left. They're sweeping the length of the drive right now – we lost a camera near the road, and they want to make sure it's just a short. Murdock and I just got back from another perimeter sweep, and Frank hasn't seen anything on the monitors. Maybe Murdock was just imagining the chopper. I mean, Hannibal's right, that's awful damn bold."
Sydney heaved a sigh. "I hate waiting. I'm ready to confront Lewis and end this."
"But we need the guy who's calling the shots, Syd; and Lewis isn't him."
"Even so, Lewis was the one . . ." She stopped and looked up at him, lips pursed. "It's all too vivid now, Face. I can't stop it from replaying. Sitting cooped up in there is just making it worse. I need some fucking closure – and Lewis is who I want."
"You may get that chance sooner than you think, Syd." He glanced at his watch. "I gotta get back out there. Please, try to get some sleep."
She nodded and slipped back into the room. Rather than resuming her seat, she walked over to the wall of built-in book cases and began perusing the titles, which wasn't easy given the low light in the room. She finally picked up Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War' and carried it back over to the chair, pulling the chain on the floor lamp behind her. The book was dog-eared, with no dust cover; the binding broken, and the cover stained. It fell open on her lap, and her eyes were drawn to an entry with scribbled notes next to it. Sydney smiled as she read the passage.
"What are you grinning about?" Amy hissed.
Sydney held up the book, as Amy took a seat in a facing ladder-back chair, sitting as stiffly as the straight wooden seat.
"Looks like Hannibal's bible," Sydney said. "Listen to this: "The skillful tactician may be likened to the shuai-jan. Now the shuai-jan is a snake that is found in the ChUng mountains. Strike at its head, and you will be attacked by its tail; strike at its tail, and you will be attacked by its head; strike at its middle, and you will be attacked by head and tail both." And next to the paragraph, Hannibal has written: But cut off the head and then what? Complimentary and cross-trained skill sets needed to build a successful A. Team: leadership, tactics, acquisitions, weapons, intelligence, mechanics. None matter if the members of the Team do not think and act as shaui-jan - as one. " She flipped through the book. "I've read Sun Tzu before, but not with the kind of awareness that the Colonel has. Hannibal never ceases to amaze me."
Amy took the book and glanced at the binding. "Why did you read 'The Art of War'?"
"It was required reading in my tactical training class. It's an amazing compendium of military strategies and tactics, especially when you consider it was written some 2500 years ago."
Amy handed the book back, shook her head. "They make it look so effortless that I forget how much training there is behind what the Team does."
"They do make it look easy." Sydney chuckled. "And I have to admit, there is something about a man lugging around an M16 that turns me on."
"Amen." Amy snorted, and she and Sydney doubled over, both trying desperately to curb their laughter so they didn't wake the others in the room; the tension of the situation lending a manic edge to their amusement.
They were just getting themselves back under control. Sydney noticed a questioning, almost wary look cross Amy's face. She had the distinct impression that Amy was going to ask her something. But Face opened the door, and the impression vanished as they both dissolved into laughter again at the sight of the handsome conman with an M16 slung over his shoulder.
He shook his head and hissed, "If you two are done, Hannibal wants Sydney out here. Now."
The laughter was replaced by sober expressions, as sudden as switching channels on a television. Sydney raised a questioning eyebrow at Face as she walked by, and his serious expression set the mood for what she was sure was coming.
Hannibal turned as she entered the room. "We have more company than we bargained for. Stockwell and minions are making their way along the drive, headed this way. They're moving slow, knocking out our surveillance as they go."
"Good thing we were performing manual checks," Face said.
"I never like to rely on electronic surveillance alone and this is why." Hannibal started pacing.
"Stockwell and goons are coming from the wrong direction. We probably still have a bogey coming in from the southeast," Face said.
Murdock stood at the bottom of the stairs, his face reflecting the same intense concentration as the rest of the Team. "No way Stockwell's crew landed in one chopper, and that's all I heard. I think Face is right. Intentional or not, we're being flanked."
"What now, Hannibal?" BA's dark eyes followed his pacing commander.
Hannibal stopped and looked at Sydney, whose gaze had hardened. "What is it, Sydney?"
"I'd bet it's Lew coming in from the southeast. I want him."
Hannibal stretched his back. "We have no idea where he is."
Sydney raised an eyebrow. "So we bait him . . ."
"With you," Hannibal finished. He shook his head. "I don't like splitting ranks with this many scumbags breathing down our necks."
"But if we get Lewis, we may be able to find out who the head scumbag is." Sydney knew that would interest Hannibal. "And if Stockwell gets to him before we do, we may lose our chance."
Hannibal stared at her for a full minute before speaking again, "Here's what we're going to do . . ."
* * *
Sydney strode out and leaned against the sheer rock wall just off the kitchen patio. Face followed with Amy in tow. Their voices were too quiet for Syd to make out what they were saying. Face cut off the conversation by turning resolutely away from Amy and toward Sydney. The dark look on Amy's face was chilling, and Syd thought, for a moment, it was directed at her.
Face distracted her from pondering it. "You need to wait out here for me."
"I heard what Hannibal said, Face."
"Yeah, you've always been so good about listening." Face's derisive tone set Sydney's teeth on edge. She crossed her arms and just glared at him.
"I have to go grab a few things before we go. Amy's going to keep you company."
"And make sure I don't take off?" Sydney snapped.
"Somebody has to. I don't have eyes in the back of my fucking head." Face jabbed a finger into her shoulder. "Stay put, Sydney." He spun, gave Amy an almost pleading look, and strode back into the house.
Amy licked dry lips, and glanced around the small patio before taking a seat at the little bistro table. Behind her, the only view outside of the enclosed space was through a narrow gap between the back of the house and the wall. Moonlight peeked through, and illuminated the area where Amy sat.
"I'm sorry you have to baby sit me," Sydney said sincerely. "I promise I'll wait for Face if you want to head inside."
Amy gazed at her intently for several seconds before speaking. "I don't like this. Obviously, Lewis is coming to us. Why do you have to go find him? Why you and Face?"
Sydney sank into the other chair. "If Stockwell gets his hands on Lewis, we'll never learn the truth. We have to get to him first. As for why me and Face, well . . . the me is obvious. And I have a feeling Hannibal's afraid of what BA or Murdock might do if they got their hands around Lewis' neck. Face is more . . . controlled."
Sydney couldn't decipher the look that crossed Amy's face as she gazed at her, but she found it unsettling.
"Face told me that you were the only other woman he's ever kissed and really meant it." The words came out fast, as if Amy was afraid if she didn't throw them out there they would bite her. "I need to know, Sydney. I need to know what happened."
Sydney stared at the younger woman in shock. She hadn't thought about that incident in nearly 16 years, and she certainly didn't believe Face had.
April 7, 1971, Zero-dark-thirty
Murdock still stood behind Sydney, cursing at her. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. Hannibal caught her on her way out of the infirmary and gave her a tight smile and a quick pep talk, before sending her out to get some air. Sydney stumbled out of the building by the nearest exit and cleansed the antiseptic smell of the infirmary from her lungs with gulps of moist, hot jungle air. Thankfully, she had exited on the back side of the building, where no one was likely to see her. She was a mess.
She stood, hands on knees, tears coursing down her cheeks, and sobbed. Murdock had never spoken an unkind word to her in the past year, but he made up for it, once he started talking today. In her head, she knew he didn't mean what he said, but her heart broke every time he threw another expletive-laden rant her way. She had managed to hold it together in front of him, but out here, she let go, the raw edges of her emotions catching the slight breeze and ripping her apart.
She was so wrapped up in her own misery she didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching. A hand touched her shoulder and she looked up to find Face standing over her, concern etched in the tight lines around his mouth and eyes. "Syd . . .?"
She choked and practically threw herself into the conman's arms. He held her until her body-wracking sobs faded to soft hiccups. She felt his hand smoothing over her hair. His heart beat a steady, comforting rhythm under her head, and his arms made her feel safe. She looked up into his eyes, and they stared at each other for a long moment.
She straightened, and started to pull away, but without conscious thought, she slid her hands up to his shoulders. She felt Face's arms tighten around her and they moved together; their lips meeting in an intense kiss that pushed all other thoughts from her mind. She let her hands travel up around his neck, and tangled her fingers in his hair. Face's right hand cradled her head, while his left hand slid around her, wandering below her waist and pulling her hips forward until she could feel the hard planes of his body through their damp clothing. She wondered fleetingly what it would feel like without the clothes, with nothing between them but their mutual desire.
She wasn't sure which one of them broke the embrace. They stood a couple feet apart, staring at each other in shock, when Hannibal appeared at the door. He seemed unaware of what he was interrupting, and his tone, when he spoke, was unusually gentle. "Sydney, I think I have him calmed down. Are you up to talking to him, again?"
It took a few seconds for the Colonel's words to register before she nodded numbly. She tore her uncertain gaze from Face and walked back into the infirmary on shaking legs. Behind her she could hear the murmur of Hannibal and Face talking, but she focused on getting back to Murdock, her guilt propelling her forward.
But guilt about what? She and Murdock were just friends, weren't they? She stopped just outside the inner door, shock rooting her to the spot as she realized what the overwhelming guilt about the encounter with Face meant. She leaned against the wall, her head and heart reeling as she came to grips with a very different playing field where her two best friends in this hell hole were concerned. After several minutes she stood, gathering her scattered thoughts and fortifying herself to face the pilot again.
That was when she realized Murdock wasn't alone. It was the same voice, the same person that later visited Morrison's hootch with Kyeh . . .
*
"Are you ready, Syd?" Face pulled her back to the present as the memory faded. Sydney felt like she was missing something very important, but Face was insistent. "Are you ready to go? You have the vest on, right?"
She nodded, absently patting at the bulk of the bullet-proof vest Hannibal had given her. She glanced at Amy. What had she asked? Amy's rushed question came back and Sydney felt an overwhelming need to explain, but knew she couldn't do so with Face standing there. "Amy, please . . ." She leaned forward, holding Amy's gaze. "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about."
She jerked to her feet, and watched as Amy rose as well. They stood facing each other, and Amy smiled tightly. "We'll talk later." Sydney nodded in acceptance.
Face looked at them, and shook his head, apparently aggravated by their immobility. "We have to go. Stockwell's entourage is moving faster than anticipated." A blast of gunfire punctuated Face's warning.
He thrust a Ruger mini at Sydney and put his hands on Amy's shoulders. "You need to get back to the office, and stay there." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Stay safe." He looked into her eyes intently, then turned to Sydney. "You remember how to use one of those, right?" She gave a curt nod, and he turned away from the house. "Let's move, Syd. I want to corner Lewis and get the hell back here. He can't be too far off now. Keep sharp."
Face led the way down the narrow space behind the house. After accepting a half-hearted embrace from Amy, Sydney checked the mini's gun clip, as well as her side arm, before following.
* * *
"Whaddaya want, Stockwell?" Hannibal smirked, thinking that Stockwell was slipping. Any good tactician knew you never do battle on dispersive ground, and for Stockwell, this was dispersive ground – it was deep in A-Team territory.
The gunfire had subsided, and the Team had Stockwell and his men pinned down behind a rocky outcrop approximately one klick from the house. Stockwell's only safe exit was back the way he came, and even that was dicey. They had enough ammo to hold them. In fact, Hannibal had just sent Murdock back to the house to re-supply. They could hold Stockwell down for a good long time.
"Colonel Smith, really. Can we not talk like civilized people?" Stockwell called out, his voice condescending as always.
"When you approach my house as a civilized guest, we'll talk, Stockwell." Hannibal ground out. "Right now, what I really want to know is just how deep you're involved in this damn smuggling ring."
Silence for several long seconds. "I take it S.A. Wilson has recovered her memory. Excellent. What do you know of the smuggling ring, Colonel?"
"I'm asking the fucking questions!"
"I am not involved in the smuggling ring, Colonel. But I know who is. I think we should help each other."
"You've been 'helping' us for the last year, General, and look where it's landed us. We don't need that kind of help."
"Then let me offer some guidance, Colonel Smith. Jeremy Lewis is headed this way, and he is not a man to be trifled with."
"We can handle Jeremy Lewis on our own, General. He's just a lackey anyway. I want to know who the head scumbag is. Until then, I'm not taking any chances. For all I know, it could be you."
"Come now, Colonel, I would think by now you know me better than that."
"Shove it, Stockwell."
Hannibal heard a muted "What? What do you mean he's gone?"
Stockwell's voice carried to him a moment later, tense, with a definite edge of unease. "Colonel Smith, I believe we have a mutual problem."
"Tell me about it."
* * *
The clouds played hide and seek with the moon, throwing their trail into deep shadow periodically, and providing good cover for their slow descent of the rocky trail. Face had foregone the main step trail they had carved out – one of Hannibal's more grueling training weeks for the Team – and followed the edge of the scrub brush that led down to the wooded perimeter nearer the lake. Here, at least, they could find some minimal cover. The entire way he kept a wary eye trained on the area around the lake, when he could see it, searching for any sign of movement.
They reached the margins of the forest, and Face stopped behind a large evergreen, pressing his back to the trunk and turning to Sydney, who leaned beside him. "Did you see anything?"
"When it was visible, there was nothing. It was like a freaking still life all the way down."
Face rolled his shoulders so his tank top stopped the annoying sweat that trickled down his spine. He slid around the trunk and leaned out to gaze at the lake, his eyes scanning the perimeter under the light of the moon. Almost immediately, the entire landscape was cast in shadow by another cloud, and he leaned back and shook his head. "The clouds could take a hike any time. I was glad for the cover while we were coming down, but now they're just a pain in the ass."
"You can bet Lew's taking advantage of the cover, too," Syd said. "You know we spent the majority of our time in enemy territory, avoiding detection. Lew was damn good at it."
Face grunted. He didn't need Syd pointing out what he was already well aware of. That was what had him so on-edge about this part of the plan. "So, what do you suggest?"
"I'm going out to the dock and wait for him. You can wait here."
Sydney straightened, and Face reached out and grabbed her arm. "What are you, suicidal or something? Lew can pick you off out there."
"He's not coming to kill me." Sydney jerked her arm out of his grasp. "He wants something, and I intend to find out what it is."
"You know, I'm thinking we should have talked about this with Hannibal. Personally, I've been operating under the assumption that killing you is precisely what Lewis has in mind."
"I was intended as bait. Let's bait him."
"There's bait, and there's bait, Syd. Let's be smart about this."
He couldn't see her face, but he knew the stubborn expression that was likely there. He was ready to wrestle her to the ground if need be, when she suddenly leaned against the tree trunk again, her gaze fixed toward the dock. "Well I'll be damned, there he is."
Lew's voice carried to them from where he stood between the bench at the base of the stairs and the dock. "Come on out, Syd. You are in danger, but not from me. We need to talk."
Face felt his scalp tingle. "Are you two psychically connected or something?"
"We did work closely together for over a year and a half, Face. You develop a sort of sixth sense where your partner is concerned."
Syd
pushed away, but Face stopped her, again with a hand on her arm.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to talk to him. You have
a good vantage point here, Face. And I notice you exchanged the M16
for your Bravo 51, so I'm thinking you expected something like
this."
Face ground his teeth. "You think he's alone?"
"I'm betting my life on it."
He and Sydney looked at each other for several long seconds. He finally nodded in capitulation and let go of her arm. He dropped to his knees, and slid from the tree to a low scrub shrub growing nearby. He positioned himself flat out and set out the legs of his rifle so his position was semi comfortable and the gun was stable. He trained his sight on the tall figure by the lake. He judged the distance, adjusted for the slight breeze and the angle of the slope. "Alright, make sure you keep to the left of my line of sight, or we're both screwed. Walk straight out from the tree toward the dock, and don't get any closer to him then this edge of the lake. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Tell him that if he makes a gaddammed move I'm going to blow his fucking brains out. I hope to God he's out here alone, because if I'm flanked we're screwed again."
Sydney's voice was low and humorless. "Here's to no screwing. At least tonight." He glanced up as she stepped into the moonlight, and sent up a tense prayer – to no screwing, and no screwing up.
* * *
Haley had awakened as soon as Amy came back to the office. She cracked her eyes open a slit and examined the adults, Maggie, Amy, and Dr. Richter, standing in a tight circle behind the desk, talking in low voices.
She had heard gunfire, and felt her anxiety about her mother's whereabouts mounting. She had been bundled away into the corner on a small cot when they moved to the office, and knew that everyone, including her mother, had then forgotten about her.
The anxiety and anger overrode her initial paralyzing fear, and fueled an overwhelming desire to be out of this room and see for herself what was going on. All had been quiet for awhile now, and that was almost worse then the periodic bursts of gunfire.
She checked to make sure the adults were still absorbed in their conversation before slipping out of the cot, and crawling behind the furniture toward the door. She took one last glance back to make sure they weren't looking, then slipped out the door soundlessly.
The living room was dark, but through the partially open door of the security room she spied Frankie with what appeared to be a large, complicated game remote on his lap, watching a bank of video screens intently. The rear sliding doors were in his direct line of sight, making that exit too risky.
She turned and crept to the kitchen, where she could leave unseen and unheard via the kitchen patio. She moved between the house and the rock wall, away from the periodic explosions of sound. Surely her mother wouldn't be anywhere near there.
Once out on the back deck, she peered down toward the lake, where she knew from what she had overheard of Hannibal's plan, her mother and Face had gone. Her mother believed they would find her old partner, but Haley hoped that her own suspicion about who was approaching from the southeast was correct.
She peeked around the end of the house. Everything looked quiet, and there hadn't been any gunfire in some time. She moved slowly, after the moon slipped behind a cloud. She crouched and hurried to the top of the steps leading down to the lake. She moved down the steps, and felt a thrill when she saw Jerry standing in front of the bench at the lake.
* * *
Sydney stepped out into the open, holding the mini so that the muzzle pointed at the ground. Lew stood motionless as she made her way down the slope to the edge of the lake. She stopped about 30 feet from him. The moon had reappeared from behind a cloud and revealed Lew's features . He looked haggard, like he hadn't slept in awhile, and his full, expressive mouth was set in a grim line. "Is the pilot up there?"
Sydney shook her head. "It's Face, and he's got a bead on you right now. You remember what a good shot he is, right?"
"I remember." He smirked at her. "If I was here to kill you, Syd, you'd be dead right now. You and the Lieutenant both."
"Well, gee, guess I should thank you." Sydney took a deep breath. "What do you want?"
"I'm here because you're in danger."
"Funny, I thought I was in danger because you were here."
"Clever, Sydney. But then you always were, weren't you?"
"Who do you work for?"
"Myself."
Syd brought the mini up and leveled it at him. "You know what I mean. Who calls the shots in the smuggling ring?"
Haley shot into the clearing and ran toward Sydney. "Mom, no!"
* * * *
